No, I never dreamed of this
by TheNameIGoByOnline
Summary: When the unexpected, yet totally predictable if you've ever watched a soap opera, happens, Felicity and Oliver become partners - on paper and in name. (This is my first. Go easy on me, gals!) Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it ain't mine. P.S. The story is much inspired by Typhoon's "Prosthetic Love." A blessed fan-vider? Please consider. [May 28 Don't worry - still writing! :) ]
1. Chapter 1

I never dreamed about my wedding day growing up. Not like other girls did. Really, I didn't do _a lot_ of things other girls did.

I had more than my fair share of crushes. Major ones. Heartbreakers. Crushes sustained me, outcast that I was. At first it was Prince Eric. That was a tough one, watching him walk down the aisle to marry that sea witch - or Ariel for that matter. My crush burned on, though, eventually replaced by a brute of a man.

The Beast. I never remember his real name. How could a girl _not _love him? It wasn't his fault he was all broody and holding on to a serious box of Man Pain. He was _literally _cursed and convinced he was doomed to an eternity alone, worthy of nothing better. Huh. Sounds familiar, actually. Anyway, the Beast just needed a little love, for someone to offer him hope, to show him he mattered. And _way_ fewer reasons to be all growly and bossy when a girl just wanted to read her book?

Then high school came, as did my boobs. And suddenly cartoon heroes weren't enough anymore. Even the ones in my comics. Not even the ones in my novels. Except Heathcliff. I guess I do have a "brooding" thing. Back then, I was your typical ball of raging hormones and curiosity, and I was exceptionally curious - mostly from a far. 3D, flesh and blood guys got a whole lot more interesting. Oh, yeah. I had crushes. Crushing crushes. Mostly, but not always, unrequited crushes. Even crushes on guys I'd only seen in movies or in tabloids - not that my _occasionally _wild imagination saw the difference. A little daydreamin' goes a _long_ way with yours truly.

Anyway, if you lived in Starling City, you'd know those tabloids were practically free advertisements for Oliver Queen. And so I might have had a _teeny _crush on him before I met him. Before he died. And came back. And showed up in my office. And Ihave _never _admitted that to _anyone. _Which is kind of impressive given my tendency to eat Panda Flat.

It wasn't like an obsession or anything. And anyway, who's to say what an obsession is, really? Mozart was obsessed and we made out okay in that deal. But there may have been one particular photo of Oliver on my bulletin board, courtesy of my roommate, who got always got a kick out of how I'd have the few Starling papers that didn't have passable websites delivered to me on a weekly basis so I could get my fix.

Seriously, though. The Starling Observer was so great in print but so bad online that it actually sparked my pet project of Random Acts of Hacking. Meaning I sort of snuck on to their FTP servers and designed a state of the art site, fully functional and genius-level optimized for user friendliness and maximum revenue generation - If I do say so myself. And I do. Their circulation went way up. A lot of people got to keep their jobs.

Anyway, _before _I became a Fairy Web Mother, I used to curl up on Sundays with the Starling City papers and soothe my coding hangover in my happy place. Speculation about who Oliver Queen was. I fully acknowledge that fact I was a wee bit more interested in him than my other crushes of the time. Ryan Gosling, Ryan Reyolds, Chris Evans pre-Captain America - even if the Fantastic Four sucked. And it did.

Maybe it was because Oliver and I were from the same city. It made it more likely that I could experience that fated moment that thrusts me into his orbit, when I get to verify exactly who I thought he was - a mostly good guy, if not a bit of a womanizing scamp, but mostly good. Just a guy - with a lot of money, privilege and access that didn't really matter to me. And he'd decide that cute nerds from the wrong side of the tracks were en vogue. We'd have The Kiss_..._and maybe other stuff. But that's it.

Never had I imagined beyond the roll credits moment at the end of the rom-com. Even as a girl, I didn't want to marry Eric or the Beast. I just wanted my Pretty in Pink Moment. Where the guy I loved would realize he loved me, and the rest is...presumptively good. A mystery. The only mystery I'll ever abide. Besides The Riddle of The Sphinx. That's a pretty good one.

The point is this was not just any photo of Oliver Queen. This was a particularly and deliciously disheveled Oliver, on what looked to be an early morning before most people were awake, walking solo down the street. A rare get for a photographer, no doubt. Oliver was almost always pictured in the vicinity of fast cars. And fast women, but hey - get yours, sisters. Safely.

Anyway, there was something about that picture. I'd seen _hundreds _of photos of Oliver Queen, but this one spoke to me. Not literally, because that would be creepy and cause for alarm, but even though I knew he was statistically likely to be doing the walk of shame in that moment, following a drunken bender that rendered him carless, he just seemed...different. Haunted. Like an Oliver Queen I'd never seen before. Despite, those hundreds of photos I'd seen of the carefree playboy, Ollie. God. The name makes me wanna hack. It's cute with Thea, but not on a grown woman, you know.

Right, but beyond all of that, even if he was doing the walk of shame, throwing away that photo would have been like bad sex karma or something. Because even then, and _definitely _now, it's pretty obvious that if the God of Love walked the Earth, he would do it possessing the blessed form of Oliver Queen. Hey. Arrow. Cupid. God of Love. Oliver Queen, Sex God of Love. Oh, thank God I'm alone right now.

I hear a knock on the door and catch my startled reflection in the mirror, mascara wand suspended midair for who knows how long now?

"Come in," I say, finishing my eye with a few quick strokes and hoping it's anyone on the other side but Oliver. _Sex God of Love_. That is going to end up in the word vomit.

The door opens and in walks one of my two very favourite guys on this Earth. Definitely my favourite pair of arms. And shoulders. He's got really nice shoulders.

"Why, thank you. I'm glad somebody around here appreciates me for more than my strategic mind and prowess in the field," says John Diggle with that conspiratorial smile he always gives me.

"Prowess, huh," I waggle my eyebrows, instantly relaxed by the company of my friend. "You look extra dashing in your extra dashing suit,"

"Gotta give the people what they want."

"Is Lyla here?"

"Who do you think picked out the suit?"

"Rar," I say, making a clawing motion at him.

"You know, you look pretty spectacular yourself," he says, smiling when I blush. Great. "Are you ready? The rich people are getting restless. And restless rich people..."

"Are dangerous people," I finish for him. It's a joke, but the words are oddly sobering, a reminder of what's really going on right now. "Okay," I say, standing straighter, exhaling deeply. "Let's do this."

No, I've never ever dreamed of getting married. Not even for Prince Eric or the Beast had I imagined anything beyond that perfect first kiss that makes your heart swell just at the thought of it.

I never pictured myself being crowned a princess. Which is why it is exceptionally ironic that I, Felicity Smoak, am being escorted from a suite in the Queen Mansion down the hall toward the Queen's "small" ballroom, so Dig can give me away. When I become Felicity freaking Queen.

Oh, Felicity. Be careful what you don't wish for. You just might get it.

Ah, that feels incredibly liberating! I hope you liked it. I've got some ideas in mind, and this is a perfect way for me to flex my chops while I'm between books of my own, so if you're with me, I'm with you. This literally just popped into my brain, so I'm gonna go with the flow some. I'd love to hear your feedback.


	2. The Inevitable

**I know, such a jerk. I take you up to a huge cliff and then rewind the DVR. We're going to go back a bit in the timeline leading up to chapter 1, then catch up to and surpass chapter 1. **

**Thanks to everyone who's dropped by and left a review, or added this to your lists - warms the cockles!**

**Also, I now understand how to upload a document right the first time, so this one should have at least a few less typos.**

**Enjoy!**

**P.S. I don't know how you guys do this, but at the same time, I totally get it now.**

It all started the same night Sara left. Which would have been bad enough without Slade picking that night to assassinate Moira Queen. I mean, can you imagine? Your girlfriend breaks your heart an hour before your mother is speared through hers. And you have to watch, helpless to do anything - despite being basically a ninja. And it's not even the first time you've watched a parent die.

Poor Oliver.

I had just changed into yoga gear I had no intention of doing yoga in and was opening the take out for one I grabbed on my way home from the lair. My phone rang and Oliver's face filled the screen.

"I knew you'd change your mind," I said when I answered. "You could have had dim sum and then some, Oliver Queen, but- Wait-"

Mortified. Way to sound like you're offering yourself up as his rebound girl. We both knew I heard every ironic word Sara uttered before she left. That's when a deep rumble of a laugh turned my blood cold. It wasn't Oliver.

"No, no. Please continue, Miss Smoak. What exactly does 'and then some' entail?"

I was instantly mindful that I was exposed by at least two windows. I set the container on the counter, at the same time activating the panic button the guys insist I keep on my car keys.

"I'm guessing the odds of there being two psychotic Australians terrorizing Starling City are fairly low," I said, not sure where my bravado came from. Probably fear. I didn't want him to see me as weak when he was in a position of complete power over me. "Where is Oliver, Mr. Wilson?"

"Feisty _and _classy, Miss Smoak." He laughed mirthlessly. "Oliver does have excellent taste."

"You've got the wrong girl, Mr. Wilson," I said, wanting to vomit but needing to buy time. Dig would come and we would find Oliver. He was alive. I would know if he wasn't. He was. "Unless you know something about my paternity that I don't, I'm not a Lance girl."

"Oh. No. You're _much_ more than that. I may only have one eye, but I'm not blind, Felicity. May I call you, Felicity?"

"If I can call you Slade." I began pacing random circles around my living room. I couldn't decide if I should get closer to the door or further away from it.

"Splendid, Felicity." I hated the way he said it. When Oliver said my name, even when he was furious with me, it felt like a warm caress. Not necessarily sexual - though not necessarily not sexual, either. Slade saying it it made my skin crawl.

"Please tell my why you have Oliver's phone," I said, working to keep the desperation I felt in my chest from escaping through my voice.

"I had to take it from him. I had to take all of their phones. Couldn't have Oliver reach out to his favourite girl genius, now could I? Please understand, it's nothing personal. I've been anxious to meet you in person. Very much so. But tonight, tonight was about _family._"

A sob escaped my throat and I could picture it. I didn't know where, but I knew Oliver left Verdant with his mother and sister. I could see the scene in my head. I must have zoned out because, while I vaguely remember hearing my name, I didn't know Dig was there until he took my front door of its hinges. Definitely better to stand away from the door.

His relief at the sight of me was immediate, but it didn't last long. One look at my face and he knew the whole world had just gone to hell.

"Miss Smoak," came Slade's voice. "_Felicity_. Why don't you put me on speaker? So we can include Mr. Diggle?"

I did as I was told, placing the phone on my coffee table with a shaky hand. 

"Good of you to join us, Mr. Diggle. Faster than I expected," Slade said, almost jubilantly. "I've been meaning to tell you how impressive you are. A real soldier. Imagine what you could do with a little Mirik-"

"Where the fuck are they?" Dig snarled. He already knew. He must have already been on his way here.

"Suit yourself. You'll find Oliver and what's left of the Queen family about 100 yards into the woods along Riverdale Road."

"That road is forty miles long," I said. "_Please_ be more specific."

"I left a road marker for you." I was about to hang up when he spoke again. "Lovely speaking with you, Felicity. Remember what I said. Don't underestimate your importance in all of this. I'll see you very soon."

Whatever that meant. Then he was gone, leaving Dig and I in this bizarre place between sheer panic and suspended animation. And then I felt those big safe arms around me.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Dig said, swaying slightly as he held me. "The security team notified me when the impact alarm was activated on Moira's town car. I got to the location and..."

"And they weren't there, so you came here."

He nodded glumly. "Just the driver. Out cold. Said 'it' came out of nowhere."

And just like that, we were in motion. I grabbed my keys and the First Web Kit I keep by the door. What? You've never had an emergency on top of a crisis? Because I have.

Dig hoisted my front door until it was resting in the frame again so we wouldn't draw attention. He always thought of everything. And once we made it down the steps to his car, he was in full battle mode.

It could be a trap. Sure, Slade painted a picture, but he could just as easily be lying. There were only three scenarios that made sense in this inevitable recreation of Lian Yu's defining moment: Laurel v. Sara, Moira v. Thea, or John v...Me. Each combination had it's own poetry in a psychotic way: the loves of Oliver's life, his mother and baby sister, and his partners in survival.

Dig opened the false bottom of the trunk and removed a rifle, a few extra magazines for his handgun and a Taser, which he handed to me.

"It's not much," he said. "But based on what Cisco said, you time it right and you could buy an escape. And that's the goal, Felicity. To get away."

"Thanks, Dig." He hated me going out info the field as much as Oliver did, but more so when we were going in blind. But it couldn't be helped anymore than I'd run to save myself if my team were in trouble.

We broke every traffic law you can imagine, making it 10 miles along Riverdale Road before we saw Slade's marker. A samurai sword - stuck in the ground like Excalibur.

I didn't wait for the car to come to a full stop. I opened the door and ran. Dig screamed for me to wait, but I wasn't in control. I had to get to Oliver. I could feel him.

Aided by my keychain flashlight, I kept going until I saw what looked like bodies in a heap. The blood was pumping so loudly in my ears, I almost didn't hear Thea wailing, laying over the motionless form of Moira Queen.

"Mommy, please wake up," she begged. "I need you. Please wake up."

Relief flooded me when Oliver came into view, but he so still, lying on his side with his arms bound behind him, for just a moment I thought maybe... But then he lifted his head until he met my gaze and my heart broke all the same.

I've seen Oliver in extreme physical and emotional pain more times than I can count, but that night his eyes held despair and grief the likes of which I'd never seen on anyone. Not even in the movies.

"Felicity, what-," I heard Dig yell as he caught up to us, rifle slung over his back, holding a flashlight above the barrel of his gun. He stopped short for a moment as he took in the scene before him. I idly wondered if he'd ever seen anything as bad as thing when he was in Afghanistan

"Give me your-" I pressed my lips together. For once, my filter was in place. "I need to free Oliver's hands."

He handed me the blade he kept strapped to his leg and I rushed to Oliver, kneeling beside him.

"We're here, Oliver." I winced as I lined the knife up with the zip tie. Between Helena and The Count, I had experience being tied up for hours. Releasing him would hurt almost as much. I prayed the shock he was clearly in would mask the pain.

I looked up and saw Dig kneeling beside Thea, talking to her in that soft, reassuring tone he always used on me. I cut the tie on the first try and quickly caught Oliver's wrists. I rubbed them gently, slowly working my way up to his shoulders to increase blood flow.

"Felicity," Oliver said, and he sounded so small. He repeated my name and I released only long enough to scurry on my hands and knees until I was facing him. I laid on the cold ground until we were eye to eye.

"I'm here." I bracketed his face with my hands and held his gaze. It was strange. While it seemed like he was looking right through me, it also felt like he was trying to crawl inside my soul. As if he weren't already there. "I'm right here."

I stroked my thumbs back and forth over the soft stubble of his cheeks and whispered quite reassurances. It felt like I was breathing for him, we were so in sync. It was oddly comforting in a way that was out of place for this horrific tableau.

And then I heard sirens and felt Oliver tense under my hands. "It's okay," I told him calmly, but loud of enough for both Thea and Dig to hear. "When they get here, I'll do the talking, okay?

"What's the story?" Dig asked. Having managed to stand Thea up, he wrapped a protective arm around her, keeping her head turned into his chest.

"The truth. But just us. I was at home and got a call from Oliver. I answered and it was Slade. I pushed my panic button but you were already on your way to me. Slade told us where to go, we came here and were just about to call the police."

The only real risk was in what we didn't know. We didn't know what Slade had told Thea, and we didn't know if or who she'd tell. Even if Oliver were talking, he couldn't say anything now.

"Thea," Oliver whispered. Like our breathing, we were in sync there, too.

"I know," I told him. "We'll take care of her. I'm not leaving your sight, okay."

I was relieved when he nodded. He was making his way back to us. I stood and walked over to Diggle and Thea. She looked like a broken doll. She looked lost. And who could blame her. She'd nearly been killed three times that night.

"Thea. I'm sorry to be so blunt right now but we don't have much time. The paramedics are going to want to look at you, and you should let them."

"I can't leave her," Thea shrieked and lurched for her mother's lifeless form but Dig caught her.

"I'm going to make sure they don't take you anywhere. Oliver and I will stay with her. I'll take care of both of them. And Dig will take care of you. You trust him right?" She nodded. "He's the best. And he'll make sure that no one talks to you tonight. Not even Detective Lance. It's really important, Thea. I promise it will make sense tomorrow."

Dig gave me a warning look, but we were all thinking it. There was no way Slade didn't drag out the theatrics with a dramatic villain monologue about the island. If she didn't already know Oliver was The Arrow, it wouldn't take her long to put it together. And if I've learned anything from being my job at QC, it's that when you've got game-game-changing news, you want to get it out on your terms.

"You've had enough secrets," I told her and her eyes locked on mine. I saw recognition and I thought she'd be angry, but she looked relieved. Like she believed me. And like it was enough for now. She was nodding her head when we heard the approach what sounded like at least a couple dozen cops. I prayed Lance was among them.

I turned and kneeled in front of Oliver again. "Oliver," I said softly. "I need you to stand up for me. We need to convince them that you don't need to go to a hospital."

At the mention of the word, he was alert, slowly righting himself and rising from his knees. I held him steady, keeping our gazes locked. When he was on his feet, I slowly turned until Moira wasn't his eye line. I needed his attention.

Gripping his hands tightly, I smiled softly at him and reached up to kiss his cheek. His eyes closed momentarily at the contact. "Oliver," I said, and he opened his eyes again. "No matter what happens, please promise me you won't run."

His normally glacier-like eyes were dull with pain, but he squeezed my hands back. "Promise."

And then there were cops everywhere.

**To be continued! Reviews are feels!**


	3. The Impact

(**Okay gang. This one's a little longer as I didn't like my options for a break. Also, for the sake of my sanity, and yours, Oliver's knee is A-OK. He's in enough pain. Plus, leather pants. Thanks to all who've fave'd, followed and reviewed. I love to hear from you!)**

Officer Lance was at the scene. There wasn't a lot of love lost between him and Oliver, but he'd known the Queens a long time and was clearly horrified by what he was seeing. I talked to him first.

He gave me a relieved hug and I welcomed it. Okay, so apparently I have a thing about surrogate father-types, like Walter. But it's not like a "Daddy" thing, and I could do a lot worse than having Quentin Lance looking out for me.

"Sweetheart," he said, pulling back to take in my disheveled appearance. "Were you in the car? Do you need an EMT?"

I assured him I was fine and gave him the short version of what had happened. Slade's personal vendetta. No mention of Sara. It was ironic, though. Lance hated Oliver for killing one daughter and breaking the other's heart. He had no idea he was the reason both were alive. He looked around before quietly asking, "Has our friend heard about this?"

His association with The Arrow had recently landed him in prison but, somehow, it only strengthened his resolve to help us. When he didn't mention Sara, I knew she'd say goodbye to him, too.

"He's unavailable right now," I said, careful not to look at Oliver. "But he should be back soon." I could only hope.

"Vigilante-Con in Maui?" I appreciated him trying to lighten the mood.

I gave him a small smile. "Something like that. Officer, I don't want to get you into more trouble, but I need to get them out of here before the press shows up. Thea especially."

He nodded. He knew better than anyone what the Queens were in for once word got out. It would be The Queen's Gambit all over again. He'd experienced it first hand.

"Let me take you to the man in charge," he said. "But get ready to hold your ground."

He led me to a tall man with wavy black hair. A notepad in one hand, he was waving the other while barking orders to CSIs and uniformed officers. I'd read about him. A hotshot transfer from Central City. Twenty-eight years old and holder of the record for most solved cases in the state. Lance was right. It wasn't easy.

"I appreciate you not wanting to get in the way of my investigation, Miss...Smoak, was it?" He didn't wait for confirmation. "But this isn't a simple assault, it's a murder. A brutal one."

I could see Oliver and Thea being looked over by paramedics with Dig standing like a Sentinel between them. I could tell he was listening to every word. Until we knew what Thea knew, or what Slade had planned next, we had to build a wall.

"I assure you, Detective Hastings," I said, careful to keep a reasonable tone and confident posture. "I understand the gravity of the situation, and you'll have our complete cooperation. But the Queens were in a major car accident only an hour before watching their mother murdered. They're both shock."

He raised a cocky arched eyebrow and gave me a look that said, "And?"

"And I've got a five hundred dollar an hour attorney on standby prepared to file against Starling PD for inflicting undue emotional duress and denying adequate care to her injured clients - all because you were anxious to see your name in national newspapers."

I still don't know where that came from. Maybe Moira passed through me on her way to the other side like what happens to Bonnie on The Vampire Diaries. Not that Moira was going to a supernatural purgatory. Either way, I was shaking like a leaf inside.

"So we'll talk to them after they've had a chance to be examined at the hospital."

"They won't be going to the hospital."

"I thought you were worried about their well-being."

"I am." Say what you want about my secret identity as an EA, but damn if I can't organize house call ER service in the time it takes police to do an initial sweep of a crime scene. "They'll be receiving treatment from Starling General's head of neurosurgery and their family physician. They'll have whatever care is prescribed to them in their home."

His jaw clenched for a moment, the muscle pulsing. He wasn't concerned about them. He was concerned he wouldn't have spontaneous access to his key witnesses if they weren't at the hospital where a flash of the badge could charm a nurse into pretty much anything.

"It's a secure location," I continued. "To protect them from Paparazzi, nurses looking for a TMZ payout, and anyone else who might harm them. Such as Slade Wilson. If I'm not mistaken, he was in your custody, Detective."

I hated saying that in earshot of Oliver, because we were the ones who handed Slade over to the cops, but it was all I had left to drive my pitch home. "Come to think of it, Queen Consolidated could help expedite efforts to get your name out there by having its press department highlight that fact when asked for comment."

"Okay, okay," Detective Hastings waved his tiny white notebook in surrender. He actually looked mildly amused. "It sounds like the Queens are in good hands. Here's my card. Call me with a suitable time to come by tomorrow and take their statements." I reached for it but he pulled back at the last moment. "_Tomorrow,_ Miss Smoak."

"Tomorrow, Detective. Thank you for your professionalism." I tucked the card in my pocket and let Lance escort me to Oliver and Dig.

"Anyone ever tell you you'd make a mean lawyer, Miss Smoak?" he asked out of the corner of his mouth. "You've come a long way since I hauled you into interrogation."

He was right. I had.

When the paramedics confirmed Oliver and Thea could be safely be transported home by car, I connected them to the doctors at the house for an information download. Dig's security team escorted us to the mansion. I didn't know whether or not either of them would want to be there, but it was the safest choice. More important than keeping us together, it kept everyone else out.

Dig stayed up front with the driver, watching the road like a hawk, his pistol at the ready. I sat between Oliver and Thea. She'd had gone eerily silent. I don't think she and Oliver had said a word to each other since we found them. I worried it was the calm before the storm - hopefully not a hurricane.

Oliver held my hand in both of his. I felt his fingers on my wrist and realized he was checking my pulse. It was just like him to be concerned for me in his darkest hour. I rested my head on his shoulder and synced our breathing again, using the time to think.

I had called Raisa while the police were distracted. I didn't want her to hear everything on the news. She'd worked for the Queens since Moira was around my age, practically co-parenting Oliver and Thea. They might as well have been her own children. She'd be able to care for them in ways we couldn't.

I also connected her with Starling General neurology and the Queen family physician so she could coordinate with them. She assured me the house was stocked with whatever we might need for a few days. Walter was out of town on business, but headed back on the next flight. Thea would want to see him, and he her.

Before we left the scene, I asked Lance to keep an eye on Laurel and to keep her away from the mansion for now. "Is she in danger?" he'd asked. I told him there was a mad man on the loose in Starling City. We all were.

I decided not to call Sara. Maybe I was trying to protect Oliver, but I also didn't know what I'd do if she just swooped back in with an "Ollie" and a trembling lip just hours after leaving him, and the rest of us, to deal with a superhuman serial killer she helped create. She might even use the opportunity to finish Roy who was still sedated at the lair. That would crush Thea and Oliver. No, Original Team Arrow would have to do.

Raisa greeted us at the house and Thea fell gratefully into her arms as the older woman whispered soothing words to her in Russian. She kissed Oliver's cheek and squeezed his hand before leading us to the ballroom. It had been converted into an emergency room probably more advanced than most military sites, complete with a portable CT and ultrasound machine. There were two exam areas with gurneys set up in the centre of the room.

At the first one, I recognized Dr. Bick. An old friend of Moira's, she'd probably been Thea's doctor her entire life. She smiled warmly when she saw the girl, coaxing her onto the bed before closing the curtain. Dig stood on the other side, protecting her but also listening to see if she'd say anything incriminating.

I stayed with Oliver during his exam, reminding Dr. Styles not to ask anything beyond what he needed to provide care. Having treated Oliver when he returned from the dead, he didn't question it. Oliver only communicated with short nods or shakes of his head. I was careful to keep a hand on him at all times, like an anchor - for both of us.

Soon enough, they were both cleared of serious injuries and concussions, though there were a number of cuts and bruises already forming. But that was just the outside, and it was still early.

As if on cue, Thea started shrieking and thrashing on the exam table. Oliver moved to go to her, but Dig already had her. He gently but firmly held her down so she wouldn't hurt herself while he tried to quiet her. But the shock had worn off and it was all settling in. And it was too much. I was relieved when Dr. Bick temporarily ebbed her grief with a sedative.

Once she was asleep, Oliver stood and wordlessly approached her. He picked her up and carried through the lobby and up the main staircase. I followed them, asking Dig to deal with the medical staff and check on Roy to make sure he was still secure.

Oliver placed Thea on her bed, dressed in the pajamas Raisa helped her into before she had to be sedated. He tucked the blankets around her and kissed her forehead. He left the light on and the door open when we left.

Next, Oliver took my hand and led me down the hall to his room. He still wore his tattered clothes, refusing to undress completely for his exam. He was covered in dry mud and his wrists had ugly red cuts around them that matched the scars already present from previous torture.

"Oliver," I said softly, resting my hands on his arms. "Do you want to get cleaned up?"

He nodded and I knew I'd never seen him so lost. I wished I knew what to say, how to give him what he needed, be his lifeline - but for once, I had no words. I led him to the en suite bathroom with a shower that had eight heads each at a different angle, proving my theory that only rich people and movie characters had shower sex.

I gently eased Oliver down on the armchair in the corner of the bathroom and kneeled to remove his shoes and socks. I stepped into his closet to search for some sweats for him, careful to keep talking about nothing in particular so he'd know I was still there.

I set the clothes next to the fresh towels Raisa had laid out on the bathroom counter, trying not to read into the fact she'd left out two sets - one of which rested atop a white terry cloth robe that was far closer to my size than Oliver's. When I spotted his hanging on the back of the door, I remembered Raisa probably expected Sara to come.

I started the water in the shower and turned back to Oliver, catching my reflection in the mirror for first time. No wonder Lance thought I was in the accident. Moira's blood was caked along my face, arm and even in my hair - probably from lying on the ground. Raisa had set up rooms for me and Dig as well, and I knew Dig kept emergency clothes for each of us in the car, but first, I had to take care of Oliver.

I knelt in front of him again. His face was buried in his hands and I knew it wouldn't be long before his adrenaline crash. We had to do this quick.

"Oliver." I gently pulled his hands down until he was looking at me. "I set out everything you need and I'll stay right here - blindfolded and everything if you want." His lips turned upward almost imperceptibly.

My prized possession had always been the one photo I had of my parents and I together. There was an album, but my mother burned it during a bender. I tried to put it out with using the bottle on the coffee table, but it the flames only grew. That's how I learned alcohol is flammable and that my mother had a fierce backhand.

So I treasured that last photo - a total contradiction to the resentment I felt toward both of my parents. It was proof that, for even a single frozen moment, I was part of a family. I'd tear that picture into a million tiny pieces and light a match if I'd be rewarded with a true Oliver Queen smile. He'd been through so much, I didn't know if I'd ever see it again.

"Okay," I said, gently pulling him to his feet and guiding him toward the steaming shower.

I waited from him to start shedding his clothes as I'd seen him do many times, but he just stood there, looking down at himself like he didn't no where to start. "Felicity?"

I didn't think before placing my hands on his chest. "Oliver, you trust me, right?"

He blinked rapidly. "More than anyone," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

"I'm glad." My eyes threatened a downpour and my own crash was looming. "Will you let me help you?"

He nodded and I began removing his clothes. I slid his jacket over his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Then carefully unbuttoned his shirt with surprisingly steady hands. It joined the jacket on the ground. Next I eased his undershirt over over his head. Keeping eye contact, I undid his belt and his pants, letting them drop and supporting him as he stepped out of them.

Leaving him in his boxers, I guided him to the shower, prepared to follow him in with my clothes on when he stopped me.

"Do you want me to go?" I asked and backed away a step. I worried I'd crossed a line. He tugged gently at the hem of my stained sweatshirt. I didn't understand.

"Trust me?" he asked softly.

"More than anyone," I repeated his words back to him.

I was probably in somewhat of trance as it happened, but I was soon wearing nothing but a sports bra and cotton panties, having just been divested of everything else by Oliver Queen.

We stepped into the shower and I gave him a moment to adjust. His eyes shut tightly against the heat pounding into his muscles. I picked up his shampoo and stood on the step in the shower until we were eye to eye. I massaged the soft liquid into his scalp, ignoring the clench in my belly when he hummed and leaned into my hands. I rinsed his hair with a detachable showerhead before loading a washcloth with suds and carefully scrubbing his body.

I had finished and was about to hand him a towel and ask him to wait for me, but he grabbed the shampoo bottle and turned me so my back was to him. Even in these dire circumstances, or maybe because of them, I couldn't help the tiny whimper of appreciation that escaped me at the feel of his fingers. He rinsed my hair and turned me to face him again.

His eyes were different from just two minutes earlier. They were softer and more focused - on me. He gently washed his mother's blood from my face before moving the cloth down my neck and across my shoulders, working under the straps of my bra and down my arms. I watched his face - gentle and cautious like he thought he'd hurt me.

"Oliver," I said and he locked eyes with me again. "Please don't worry about me. I'm- Oliver?"

I couldn't move. Oliver Queen was looking at me with what could only be described as hunger - starvation even - and I couldn't move. I didn't even notice him drop the washcloth and slide his hand behind my head. I was too mesmerized.

When he pulled my face to his, I yielded to him. And when our lips fused in a hot, open-mouthed kiss, I momentarily forgot the circumstances that had led us here. My body reacted without talking it over with my brain. I stretched up and anchored my hands to his shoulders as he crushed me against him using his free hand.

I'd be lying if I said that kiss hadn't awoken (literal and figurative) parts of me. It was like I was the only thing keeping him tethered to this place. Our mouths moved in perfect time, and while fueled by grief, desperation and relief, it was life affirming. Proof that he was still there. That we both were.

When his tongue swept my bottom lip, I had to fight against my instincts to open to him, pulling my head back slightly instead. If I hadn't, I would've given him everything and regretted it when I as thinking clearer. When he was thinking clearer. Things had irrevocably changed enough for one night.

I kept my hands firmly in place on his back and shoulder so he'd know I wasn't pulling away completely. "Oliver. A lot's happened tonight."

It was like he'd snapped back to reality and I saw the guilt wash over his face. Every girl's dream when she's finally kissed by the leading man of her ever-lovin' dreams. I had definitely made the right call.

"I'm sorry," he said, blinking rapidly. He started to release me, but I held his hands in place.

"I'm not," I assured him. "I mean. It's only natural. To want to remind yourself that you're alive after something like this."

He shook his head. "I-"

I pressed a fingertip to his lips to stop him from apologizing again, or from mentioning Sara or half a dozen other things that could break me in that moment. "Don't, Oliver. Please don't apologize. You and me, we're good."

"Please don't leave." He tone was imploring and it hurt my heart.

"I couldn't if I wanted to, and I don't want to," I said and smiled softly at him. So he'd know I meant it, I leaned forward and hugged him for a long moment under the remarkably hot water. It still wasn't as warm as Oliver's arms wrapped tightly around me, or the feel of his skin under my hands and cheek.

I finally released him to turn off the water, opening the door just enough to grab our towels without letting the warmth escape. He accepted one when offered, and we dried ourselves off in silence. I stepped out of the stall and grabbed the robe I was now very thankful for, excusing myself to Oliver's walk-in closet, closing the bathroom door most of the way to give him privacy to dress.

The closet was like walking into one of Oliver's hugs and I was immediately enveloped with his scent. Taking the comfort where I could, I breathed deeply and slipped out of my wet underwear before wrapping myself in a fluffy cloud. That's when I remembered that I had no clean clothes to change into.

The robe would have to do, though it seemed like a mumu in comparison to bathing each other and all but making out in the shower. I towel dried my hair quickly and stepped back into the bedroom. Oliver was still in the bathroom. I looked over to his bed and found that Diggle had dropped off my emergency bag and First Web Kit. My phone rested on top, showing a text from him.

"_I'll watch over Thea. House is secure. Strategy in the morning_," it said. It was followed by another. "_And your new code name is 'Barracuda_.'"

I couldn't help but smile and replied with a thank you and goodnight. What would I have done tonight without John? I opened my bag and found underwear, but nothing to sleep in, because I'd never imagined myself needing to sleep at Oliver's.

I looked up when a grey tee shirt entered my vision. Oliver stood beside me. "To sleep."

"Mind reader." I accepted it and brought it and my bag to the bathroom. "I'll just be a minute. Why don't you get in bed?"

I waited for him to nod before I closed the door. I brushed my teeth and braided my wet hair quickly before I put on the shirt. It might as well have been a dress on me, but I layered the robe over it all the same before leaving the bathroom.

Oliver was under the covers, sitting with his back against the headboard - and shirtless because the universe was trying to kill me. I approached and grabbed a pillow before turning toward the couch near the bed.

"Where are you going?" he asked and I pivoted back to him quickly.

"Nowhere. I mean, just to the couch. I'm not leaving."

When he reached out to me, silently asking me to join him. I was angry with Sara in that moment. I resented her for not being there to give him things I couldn't. It didn't matter that she probably didn't even know what had happened. He needed her and she wasn't there.

I removed the robe and draped it over the foot of the bed before sliding under the blankets Oliver had lifted for me. I was relieved to note he was still wearing pants. I rested my head on his shoulder and waited for him to speak, or not speak.

"He's not done," Oliver said after a long stretch. His was voice raw with use and emotion. "He said one more person had to die."

A chill ran through me, but I suppressed a shudder. "Of course he said that, Oliver. He's sick. He's playing a game. He could have killed Thea twice and he didn't."

"I don't think he meant Thea," he said weakly.

I knew he was thinking about Sara. And probably Laurel. It didn't really matter, because Slade could take who he wanted. We were all pawns, and he'd already captured the Queen.

Still, Slade's earlier words replayed in my head. _Don't underestimate your importance in all of this...I'll see you very soon. _He was a psychopath. He was trying to scare all of us. I wouldn't play into it. Oliver didn't need to know.

I raised my head to look at him. "Maybe. But Oliver, you need rest. We all do. I know you probably don't want to sleep, but please just lay here with me and close your eyes. We need to be at our best tomorrow. For Thea."

"You're right," he said and moved down until his head lay on my chest.

I ran my fingers through his hair trying to lull him to sleep, but just as I thought he was drifting off, the tears finally came and I felt his body shake against mine as he sobbed.

**(Until next time. I'm fueled by a goal of getting my theories out before they potentially play out on screen! Have a great night, folks!)**


	4. The Morning

**Hey gang. A shorter one tonight. Want to move things along a little. It's inevitable that I'll be going off book now, but that's the point, right? Overwhelmed by everyone who's reached out with their thoughts. Very appreciated and motivating. Hope to hear from you again.**

I woke up to Oliver Queen watching me sleep. My eyes fluttered open, and there he was. Turned on his side, studying me. He looked like he'd been up for awhile. There wasn't much space between us, but I was thankful I hadn't woken up with my leg hitched over his leg or something.

I didn't know exactly what time it was, but it was early. We'd been up until at least 3 a.m. We didn't say much. I just held him and let him cry until he was finally exhausted. He had to get it out. I didn't want him to rush his grieving process, but I knew Oliver and he wouldn't take the time today. He'd avoid it as long as possible.

"Hi," he whispered.

I smiled sleepily, "Hi."

We looked at each other for a long moment before he whispered. "My mom's dead."

"Yeah."

He reached out and held the hand tucked under my pillow. "Thank you," he said, and it reminded me of that night I found him shot in my car.

"You don't have to thank me, Oliver. I'm glad I was here."

"I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't shown up first."

I exhaled deeply. "You and me both."

"I know she was unkind to you." Leave it to Oliver.

"I honestly hadn't really thought about it, Oliver," I said, reminded of the day Moira announced her Mayoral candidacy, when I told Oliver a truth she wouldn't: That Malcolm Merlyn was Thea's biological father. "But since you bring it up, it doesn't really matter. She was protecting you, and while I don't like how she tried to go about it, I share the impulse."

"I don't understand," he said, and I realized I'd never told him that part. Of course I hadn't.

"I told you I gave your mother a chance to tell you."

"Not an answer."

"You didn't really ask a question."

"How did she about it? Did she threaten you?"

"No, not exactly. She just tried to manipulate me into not telling you."

"How?"

I wished he'd just drop it, but there was no taking it back now. "She said I'd be taking myself down along with her. That you'd hate me for telling you."

Understanding crossed his features. "That's why you were so upset at the rally. Why you were thinking of your parents."

"Yup. But, anyway. She was wrong. And she's your mother. My mother… She's not that different. But she's still my mother. And you had a chance to make peace with yours. That's what's important."

"I'm sorry you got pulled into it."

"I inserted myself, Oliver. It wasn't my business."

"You risked something important to you for me. I never told you how much it meant to me that you were honest."

"Always."

"She knew."

I almost fell out of the bed. "Like _knew _knew? About The Arrow?"

"Since The Undertaking. She told me last night. She told me she was proud."

It was a small mercy amidst a major tragedy, and I was grateful. "She was a smart woman, Oliver. I'm glad she knew."

"Me, too." He smiled sadly and I squeezed his hand, the action suddenly feeling a lot more intimate than comforting.

"Should we talk about last night?"

"You…want to talk about it?" I was pretty sure I knew what he meant, but I tried to play dumb. "I mean, we can but maybe we should wait for John so you don't have to go through it again for him."

"You think it's best we tell Dig that we kissed in my shower?"

"_Oh_. No. We don't have to talk about that."

"But maybe we should."

"We already did. Like I said, we're good."

"But you stopped me. From saying something."

"I stopped you from apologizing. Because you don't need to. If anything, I should be apologizing to you. You were in a totally vulnerable position and I should have been more mindful of that."

He narrowed his eyes. "You think you took advantage of me?"

"Easy on the ego, buddy." I lied. "I mean you just finished telling me you trusted me to take care of you."

"You did take care of me. I'd be halfway around the world by now if it weren't for you. Now can I say I wanted to last night?"

"I'm sorry," I squeezed my eyes shut. "I'll stop interrupting."

Saved by the Diggle. I heard his distinctive knock on the bedroom door, which always seemed a little longer than necessary when Oliver and I were on the other side.

"Dig's here," I announced and reached for the robe at the foot of the bed, but it was too far. Oliver barely had to stretch his fingers to grab it for me, a bemused look on his face.

I jumped out of bed and clumsily tried to put on the robe. I spun around so many times, I almost turned into Wonder Woman. "Just a second, Dig!"

"Felicity," Oliver called, now inside the walk-in closet. "Your voice is really high."

"Not all of us can sound like a sexy lawnmower," I said under my breath.

John had come bearing coffee, gluten, and bags under his eyes. He set the tray on a table and approached Oliver, giving him a brief but brotherly hug. "I'm sorry, man. I don't know what else to say."

"Thank you," Oliver said as they separated. He clamped a hand on Dig's shoulder. "And for everything you did last night. Especially for Thea. There's no one I trust more with her safety. Is she…?"

"She's fine. She woke up during the night and asked to be sedated again. She's still asleep."

"Good." There was something going on with Oliver and his little sister, of that I was sure.

"I just wish I'd driven you home from the rally." Dig said. I was worried he was holding on to something like that. When would they learn that they couldn't be everywhere and protect everyone at once.

"I'm glad you didn't. You'd be gone, too."

And there it was again. The awkward moment in the bed was a brief distraction, but we couldn't keep pressing snooze on reality. It was time to figure out what to do next. I was right about Oliver, though. He was obviously hurting, but he was was compartmentalizing.

We drank coffee and forced ourselves to eat. Oliver asked me about Slade's call and I expanded on what I'd told the police. But I didn't tell him how weird it got, how much dread he made me feel. "And then Dig broke my door down. Slade did his villain speech, told us where to find you, and you know the rest."

Dig's sideways glance at me didn't escape Oliver's attention. "Felicity," he said slowly. So much different from Slade. "What are you leaving out?"

"Nothing. He's a certifiable crazy person. He likes to play mind games." They weren't buying it. I looked at Dig. "Et tu, Diglus? I don't see you offering up his suggestion of a little Miraku-Grow for you."

"Felicity." They said at the same time.

"It's not important right now. It just…" I walked into the bathroom where I'd left my bag, pulling out clothes for the day as I spoke, like the action would make it seem less serious. "On the phone, he just acted…very familiar with me. But he was just trying to get in my head. And yours."

"What did he say, Felicity?" Oliver's tone was gentle, but it had that edge that told me I had no more room to beat around the bush.

"He was acting like a gentleman," I said from behind the mostly closed door where I pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater. "He told me I was classy and that you had good taste in women, I'm sure because Isabitch told him we were sleeping together."

I brushed my hair quickly and walked out of the bathroom in time to see Oliver and Dig exchange a look I chose to ignore. "And when I reminded him my last name isn't Lance…he said I was more than that, and that for a Cyclops, he wasn't blind."

Dig watched me with with as rapt attention as Oliver. He hadn't heard this part. "He told me he took your so you couldn't contact me - specifically," I said and watched Oliver's face harden. Exactly what I was trying to avoid.

"He said he'd been looking forward to meeting me for awhile, but that last night," I swallowed thickly. It felt wrong to be talking about Moira's murder like any other mission. "He said last night was about family. Thats when Dig came in and he told us where to find you."

"Felicity, I swear to _god_, woman," Dig said in his frustrated big brother tone. He was pacing now.

I rushed through the rest. "He told me not to forget what he'd said, that I was important in all of this. And that he'd see me very soon."

I jumped when Oliver flipped the coffee table with a growl that probably woke up the neighbours five mansions away.

"Oliver, it doesn't mean anything," I tried to reason with him. "This is what he wants. He wants to scare you. It's not me."

"Somebody want to fill me?" Dig asked calmly.

Oliver answered Dig, but without taking his eyes off me. "Before he left, he told me one more person had to die before this was over." He was looking at me with rage in his eyes, but I knew it wasn't aimed at me. "And you're his _next _phone call."

"Which obviously worked like a charm. He's never bothered with me, before despite obviously knowing who I am. It's illogical. I'm not even connected to the Island."

"Helping me is enough."

"I'm not the only one in this room isn't afraid of death, Oliver." God if he only knew. "And right now, this isn't our biggest problem. What's going on with you and Thea?"

He gave me a look that told me we were changing the subject, but not done with it. "She figured out I knew more about Roy than I was letting on. She knows he was injected."

"Slade?" Dig asked.

Oliver explained how Slade revealed their association on the island, that he made sure Moira and Thea knew it was his fault, his role in Shado's death, that had led them there. That in the end, Moira offered herself to save her daughter. That he was so far past psychopathic, he was delusional, talking to a ghost. Amazingly, he didn't reveal Oliver's secret to Thea, despite having the chance twice.

"We have to tell her, Oliver. She deserves to know. I know you want to protect her, we all do, but if we don't bring her into this and she finds out, not only do we have no control over who she tells, but you'll lose her in the process. You need each other right now."

"You're right," he said finally, shoulders sagging. Easier than I expected. "But she won't talk to me."

"I think she might listen to me."


	5. The Truth

I was born in Starling City to Tony and Jessica Yves. Yep. Smoak is not my real last name. And Felicity wasn't my first first name. Felicity Megan Smoak _is _my legal name and has been for years now. But almost no one knows that. Including Tony and Jessica Yves.

I guess I had a secret identity before Oliver did. Now I have two, which makes me extra badass if you think about it. If someone _did_ look into Felicity, they'd find a totally catfished history to support the existence of Yours Falsely. But yeah, I was born Greta Megan Yves.

My dad was a respected doctor who came from a little family money. Not like crazy Oliver Queen money, but enough. It came in really handy when I developed Leukaemia at six years old. Cancer sucks - and it's expensive, terrifying, depressing and stressful. At first, my parents were really attentive, but I eventually stopped seeing my dad as much. Barely at all, really. He was always working a late at the hospital, or attending some conference halfway around the world.

A week after my eighth birthday, he left for good. You'd think having seen so little of him lately would soften that blow a little, but it only made it worse. Especially because he didn't say goodbye. Mom told me he didn't want to leave, but had to for work. She assured me he'd come back eventually. The fact she wasn't working, but _was_ shopping, makes me think he was still paying our bills, but I didn't really think abut stuff like that back then. I was an escapist, always reading, watching Disney movies, or taking apart and putting back together computers we'd retrieved from out front of people's houses the night before garbage pick up.

When I was fourteen, I managed to do my freshman year without being hospitalized. I was way ahead of the curriculum, but the kids were my age. Not that I had friends - kids were as kind and compassionate back then as they are now. But it was a change of scenery. And there were boys - the real live ones.

When I was 15, the Leukaemia turned into bone cancer, which doubly sucked. I don't mean to be glib. I've just the better part of my life being defined by my illness and I don't like to talk about it, so I make jokes. Try to hide your shock. I had to spend a lot more time in the hospital, so I'd gotten used to entertaining myself. I might not be the Pop Culture Connoisseur I am if it weren't for the countless hours spent in waiting and treatments rooms, hooked up to machines or IVs.

I've read pretty much every gossip rag there is. It's what we did before the Internet was available everywhere (or if you risked drawing attention to the fact you'd hacked into the hospital's wifi with your phone). But beyond the boy band sensations and teen heartthrobs, Starling City had realized Oliver Queen had grown up. And he was everything a teen girl could dream about

The billionaire playboy in training was my coping mechanism during chemo and radiation. Tell me that's not a face that can ease nausea. Sure, he usually had a random beautiful girl on his arm, but I didn't care. In my overly active imagination, Oliver Queen was my secret boyfriend who didn't care that I was pale and scrawny, or about the colourful scarves covering my bald head. It sounds silly, but when the pain became unimaginable, I could live in my imagination. Sometimes I think he saved my life before he literally started saving my life.

When I was sixteen, my mom told me we were selling the house. She loved that house, and it was worth a small fortune, so I figured dad wasn't sending money anymore. It coincided nicely with her decision to move us to Nevada, following her boyfriend who was taking a law firm partnership. When I protested, insisting my dad would come back some day, she told me I was old enough to know the real reason he left.

Me.

He was tired of my illness siphoning away his life, with the constant ups and downs of remission and relapse. He was a promising doctor and scientist with things to study and papers to publish. He'd been footing the medical bills, for awhile, probably out of guilt, or maybe to keep up appearances. My mother had been granted a divorce earlier that year on grounds of abandonment. I guess all it takes is leaving a classified notice searching for that person in the local newspaper. If it goes unanswered, Voila! Not that she hadn't been dating long before that. Different men, always rich. Bankers, ad execs, lawyers…

Speaking of which, it turned out she forgot to tell her lawyer boyfriend she was following him out there, and he wasn't particularly happy when she showed up. When she had "a sick kid in tow" who she'd never mentioned - or at least, that's what I heard through my new bedroom window - he dumped her flat.

After that, pretty much everything was my fault. I was the reason for everything bad in my mother's life, and I guess that's true. She had nothing in common with her geeky daughter who spent most of her waking hour engrossed in fantasy worlds or fiddling with electronics. When she had to take a job at a casino to help cover costs and for the health insurance, she became almost indifferent to me. She was never really around, but unlike with my dad, it was more of a relief. I spent most of my time with a neighbour mom paid to make sure I was fed and watered.

And then in one day, I started feeling better. No one could explain it. I had recently been told I had two years left - tops, but I'd heard that so many times, it ceased to have meaning. I was going to die, just sooner than most. I'd made peace with it, and so had my mother. But that only meant I was ready, willing and able to embrace this new lease on life.

One benefit of being a genius is that school years and extra curriculars cease to matter. A man name Lucius Fox from Gotham had read about the girl miraculously cured of cancer, who taught herself to build computers from a hospital bed, and offered me a summer internship at Wayne Industries. My mom wasn't happy about it. Not proud but sad, or even glad to be rid of me - she was just unhappy about it.

I went anyway. And it was incredible. I thought I new a lot, but I had no idea how much I didn't know. Lucius delighted in me, in seeing everything through my eyes, in my boundless energy and my stubbornness when I hit a wall. I even hung out with Bruce Wayne, which was funny to me. He was pretty quiet, where I was not - a side effect of being isolated from people for so long. But where most people found it annoying, he was amused. The trailer trash comeback kid and the tragic billionaire as friends? Who knew? That was the best summer of my life, the cherry on top being a Wayne Industry full scholarship to MIT, the only condition being that I come back to work for them when I graduated.

After that, I only visited Nevada when I had to. Each time, I'd get another rendition of how ungrateful a daughter I was for leaving my mother who'd given up so much for me, slaving away at the casino, her best years gone down the drain. She was always good at guilt trips. And when I turned 21, she'd found a way for me to make up for my existence. Counting cards.

I'd made the mistake of showing her I could do it, hoping she'd be proud. Instead, she saw dollar signs. She wasn't stupid enough to do it at her casino, but we made the rounds on the strip. No one suspected the meek brunette with frizzy hair and glasses, and I was smart enough to lose a few hands, even for a whole night if it meant I could go in the next day an inconspicuously clean up. I never kept a cent. It all went to my mother. For what, I had no idea, other than a lot of it wound up on her back and feet.

Fast forward to me handing in my last exam of my final year. It was a formality. I knew I'd graduate with honours, and that a job with Lucius, and a new life in a big city waiting for me. I'll never forget the moment of peaceful joy I felt as I walked off campus that day. I can still feel the smile on my face. Then my phone rang.

Apparently my mother's drinking - and what had turned out to be drug use I was funding - had caught up with her, and she told a friend about what we'd done. And that friend just happened to be dating the Pit Boss of the last casino I'd taken twenty grand from just a month earlier. I flew home and went straight to the casino as instructed. My mother had been smacked around a little, but she was still squawking like a bird.

The owner, Aldo, was curious about how a little girl had taken his operation for so much. He was also blatantly ogling me and it made me feel sick. I had no idea what we were into. But my mother did. She started telling him how smart I was. How I could be of use to him. That we both could. I realized then she was offering herself to him. My mother was a looker in her day, but her day was about 20 years and a few diagnoses ago.

When Aldo suggested that maybe _I_ could help him in multiple ways, my mother was actually excited - in a way that made me wretch. It was like she'd found opportunity in this situation. I was just hoping not to go to jail - or worse. He also suggested I could work off my debt in the high rollers room, which was basically a brothel with more decorum. No. Way. Too bad my mother was saying yes. _Thanking _him for being so generous.

That's when I figured out how to talk myself out of trouble. Thanks to what I'd learned from Lucius, MIT and, well, because of my genius brain in general, I was able to pinpoint a number of security issues the casino was vulnerable to. I'd noticed a lot during my time counting cards. Blind spots, shifty dealers, minors…I'd seen it all. I convinced him to let me set up a new security system and network - a job worth at least fifty grand for manpower alone.

Oddly enough, Aldo became fond of me, and not in the lecherous way I'd expected. I don't know if someone told him about my history, or if he was just bemused by what I could do, but he started treating me with respect. When I finished, three weeks and a missed graduation later, he gave me twenty thousand dollars. Cash. It was exactly how much I'd taken from them.

"Consider it the second half of your consulting fee, doll," he said. I was dumbfounded. I just stared at the large manilla envelope he placed in my hand. "From what I hear, you've taken your share of knocks in life. And you're better than where your life is headed if you stick around here."

I'd been in denial for so long, I don't think I ever considered exactly how much of my life I was giving over to my mother because I thought I owed her a debt. I mean, she'd undoubtedly made sacrifices, and my dad leaving couldn't have been easy, but she was still the mother. And we were no Gilmore Girls.

Do you look like one of your parents? I look just like my mother. I used to think it was the reason she started getting so annoyed with me after I got better. Suddenly I looked like her at my age - when she was happy, having landed her dream job as housewife to rich doctor. Before I ruined everything. Was I to become like her now, too?

"I don't know anything else," I told Aldo, quietly. I had Lucius, Bruce and Wayne Industries waiting for me. But she'd always be there, showing up and wanting something. God, I hated her. But she was my mother, and the only family I had left. I might as well have been an orphan, but unlike Bruce, I didn't have Alfred. And you know…all that other stuff.

"Cookie, I ain't never met a smarter broad - no man neither. You showed balls haggling your way out of trouble - and you _were _in trouble. If anyone deserves a fresh start, it's you. This bein' Vegas, I figure it's the perfect place to pull a disappearing act."

It was like Make a Wish Foundation thing, but organized by mobsters. "I mean, I could online, but paperwork…"

"Covered. I'm gonna set you up with Big Levi. This is what he does. And he owes me one."

"You're serious."

I figure everyone gets a handful of moments in their life that just change everything. I'd had one when I got that first diagnosis, another when my dad was officially gone, and here was number three - this strange gift handed to me by way of a mob boss with a soft spot for under-dogs. And before I knew it, I was hugging him with all my might. He didn't even try to grab my ass.

He gave me a phone number and I was gone. I didn't even say goodbye to my mother. I'd reach out at some point, but right now I needed my resolve. With my twenty thousand dollars, I checked into a posh suite at the Bellagio. I'd watch the fountains from my room, which was so big I would spin around in circles around like Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music. I felt so incredibly free. I cried, but they were the happiest of tears. I knew the difference.

Big Levi operated out of the back room of a hair salon just off the strip. It was owned by his boyfriend and covered in orchids. Criminals are often the most interesting people. Stephen was behind the counter when I arrived and he recognized me immediately.

"Greta Yves!" he announced. Didn't seem like a very covert operation.

"Yes?" I asked warily, looking back at the door.

"Look at you! You're healthy. And _gorgeous. _You were gorgeous before, but I told you, with a name like Greta, you were…"

"…born to look like a movie star," I finished for him. And I remembered. He'd said the same words to me on my 16th birthday when he fit me with the new human hair wig I received thanks the salon's generous fundraising efforts after a story about me ran in the paper. I did feel like a movie star that day.

I spontaneously flung my arms around his neck, surprising myself more than him. I wasn't a touchy person. I wasn't used to being touched. Big Levi emerged from the back, perturbed to find us embracing. He was a sight in his cut off jean jacket vest over a wife beater, wearing a studded leather hat.

"Levi, look!" Stephen said and walked behind the register. He returned with a framed photo and tears in his eyes. And there I was, with Stephen and my brand new hair, our smiles as wide as our faces. "You took this picture."

Once we'd gotten over the small world factor, Big Levi told Stephen why I was falling off the map. "It's so romantic," Stephen said. "After everything you've been through…a blank slate. And I can help, too!"

He wasn't kidding. I spent the next week hanging out with Levi and Stephen or lounging in my hotel room, plotting my new identity - inside and out. First, I needed a new name. We'd sit around the salon, laughing as I taught them the joys of internet videos, or looking up dirt on their social rivals and neighbours they were curious about. And once in awhile, we'd shout out names, or words that might fit me. Or who I wanted to become, anyway.

"I've got it," Levi announced one night over take out and red wine - something they educated me on at length. "Felicity."

"I _loved_ that show," said Stephen. I liked it, too, and the name. I didn't know why, but it felt right. It felt like my future. "What does it mean?"

"Joy," Levi said, winking at me. "It's perfect."

"It is perfect," I said. It was unusual, and graceful, and whimsical - it was free.

"Felicity it is." Stephen clapped his hands excitedly. "Thought of a last name yet?"

I picked up my knapsack and took out the mystery novel I'd been reading. "How about Smoak?" I asked. "S-M-O-A-K."

We all let it sit for a moment, letting the combination roll off our tongues a few times. Then Stephen guided me to one of the styling chairs and sat me down, spinning me around a few times until I was giggling. When he stopped in front of the mirror, putting his hands on my shoulders and levelling his face with mine. "And Felicity Smoak," he said with a thrilled grin, "is movie star blonde."

I spent the next week learning about make up and colour, how to wear prints and solids together, and all of these other rules I'd never learned because they seemed unimportant being I was dying and all. Stephen insisted, though, because the next step in my fairytale was meeting the man of my dreams, and they had to be sure I'd catch his attention if I was distracted with by a book or a computer screen.

I didn't want to spoil the moment and tell them the man of my dreams had died not long before I got better. The charismatic, magnetic playboy with the world, and women everywhere, in the palm of his hand, had drowned at sea along with his father. His life was over and mine was beginning anew. And I hoped it would include true love. Now that I was better, it was the thing I'd wished for most. I'd dated a few boys and shared some okay-to-great kisses at MIT, but I'd never felt that explosive, cellular thrill I'd always read about. The way I'd always imagined it would be with Oliver Queen.

It was incredibly hard to say goodbye to Stephen and Levi, who were changing my life in every sense of the word. But less than a week later, Greta was partying in Tijuana and, because she was over the age of consent, the police wouldn't be searching for her. Greta would pop in random places now and again over the years, but it was Felicity Megan Smoak who walked out of Greta's dorm room at MIT. All I took with me was my new paperwork, a small bag of a travel essentials and a couple of photographs.

I knew where I was going, but I had to stop in Gotham first. I needed to speak to Lucius one on one. We had a deal, after all. That was the hardest part of giving up the old me. I'd never felt more potential for myself than when Lucius Fox believed in me. No one had ever made me feel like more than I was, like I wasn't broken, forever damaged and defined by my past. I told him everything that happened in Nevada, including the fact my mother had tried to bargain with both my brains and body to save herself, that she thought I owed her my…everything.

He was sad to see me go, but noticeably relieved for me, too. He's the only person besides Stephen and Levi who knows I really am. Which is probably why, two weeks after I unpacked my bags in my first teeny apartment in the glades, I got a call - at my brand new, unlisted phone number - from Walter Steele. Apparently he'd lunched with Lucius that day and was told one of the brightest technological minds of her time was right under his nose, suggesting he snap her up before S.T.A.R. Labs did. I didn't even have to interview. So there I was. In Starling City again. I had a new name, a new hair colour, a new job, and no family.

As I walked down the hall to Thea's bedroom, I couldn't help but wonder what the hell made me think she'd listen to an orphan.

**Okay, so I wasn't sure about posting this in one chunk like this, but I think it'll allow for smoother story-telling in future chapters. Let me know your thoughts. And thanks again to everyone who's left a note of encouragement, followed and favorited. You're all rock stars.**


	6. The Unavoidable

**Hey guys! Sorry this took so long. Admittedly, I started writing ahead of where I was. Follow the muse and all that. I'm also crazed launching my book this month, but I'll try to be faster. Having seen this week's episode (and loving it), I know we'll veer of canon some, but probably overlap a little, and that's cool. Thanks to everyone who's dropped me a line, followed or favourited. You all make my socks roll up and down.**

"What?" came a sharp voice through the heavy wooden door to Thea's…suite? It was probably a suite.

I didn't need to actually see it to know it was twice the size of Oliver's room. I could see a teeny Thea playing dress up years before she ever literally dressed up in clothes from Alexander McQueen and, surely, one day, Vera Wang. It just proved how meaningless it all was. At least to me.

"Thea? I'm sorry if I'm waking you, but it's Felicity. Could I come in for just a minute?"

It was quiet for moment before I heard a softer, but reluctant, "Okay."

I entered the room and it was pretty much the cross between Tangled and Pretty Little Liars I had expected. Enough hand-carved furniture to fill a small living room, walk in closet - the size of a small living room - a full-length swivel mirror, straps caught on corners and fabric peeking out of drawers. And in the very centre of the room, a four poster bed that looked like heaven - if heaven were the Neman Marcus bedding department. Among thick duvets and pillows, was petite little Thea, with wild hair and suspicious eyes.

I didn't step too far into the room. "You slept?" I asked, trying not to sound too casual, but not really sure of my footing either.

"Two very effective injections of something administered by a professional." She smiled grimly. "Slept like a traumatized baby."

"Yeah, I guess that was a stupid question." I was fidgeting, twisting my arm behind me, rubbing it against my back. I volunteered for this. Smart, Felicity.

"No. No. It wasn't a stupid question." She shook her head lightly. "You've never been anything but nice to me. And to Oliver. Even if he doesn't deserve it. And…thank you. For last night. I would have woken up in a hospital crawling with reporters, cameras everywhere. It would have been just like…"

Her eyes zoned out a little and I finished for her. "Like The Queen's Gambit." Well, that was one way to cut to the chase.

I watched the finer details of the previous night register with Thea. I knew exactly what she'd been told, and what she suspected. I knew I'd more or less promised her the truth.

"Oliver wasn't alone on that island," she said.

"No."

"You already knew that." There was no judgment. She was remarkably calm. I don't think it was pharmaceutically enhanced, either. She was Moira Queen's daughter. And a Meryln. Not that I was going to be bringing that up, but she was basically born to be calm at a time others would be spazzing out, or drinking heavily.

"I'm not gonna lie to you, Thea. I mean, that's kind of that point, I _have_ lied to you. Not because I wanted to, and I do _not_ enjoy it. But I'm probably low on your list of what I assume are a million questions, and I told you I'd help you make sense of everything, so…if you want to do that now, we can. I can try."

She waited me out, probably shrewdly waiting for me to show my hand, or read my sincerity. She looked like Moira. "Why did Slade Wilson kill my mother?"

To the point. Okay. I expected this. I was so glad Dig was probably restraining Oliver in his room. "Thea, I'm gonna do my best to fill in all the blanks or whatever, but at some point, you're going to want - no, you really _need_ - to talk to Oliver. Even if you're mad at him. And spoiler alert: you will be."

I considered my next words carefully. "And I won't harp on this, but I just want to say that I know what it's like to feel like you're the only one who doesn't know the truth, and to be livid with the people you're supposed to trust the most. The answers are more important right now. The rest of it will still be there."

"Do you know about Roy?"

"Yes. And I'm going to tell you everything I know, but I'm also going ask you to try and let me get everything out in order. It'll just be…easier."

"For Oliver?" She reflexively rolled her eyes.

"For me, really," I admitted, with a short, breathy laugh. "For you, too. And, Thea, I promise you, there isn't any way this could go right now that would be easy for your brother."

"But Roy's safe?"

"Dig's with him right now."

With one last skeptical look, she exhaled a breath that must have come from her socks. "Do you want to come sit up here?"

"Yeah, I really do," I found myself saying. "It looks like Bed Nirvana,"

I saw just a hint of a smile on her face when I scaled the mountain that was Bed, Bath and Beyond anything I'd ever seen.

F&O F&O F&O F&O F&O F&O

The morning it was announced that Oliver Queen was, in fact, alive and…not _well, _but alive all the same, I was installing software on computers at QC while listening to Girl With A Dragon Tattoo on audiobook. I didn't know if I was overpaid or underpaid, but life was boring.

Good boring. Don't get me wrong. It's exactly what I wanted. (And that's a really good book.) And it's not that I didn't do more important and exciting things ever - I did. But still, it's not SWAT, it's iOS. That's IT girl humour. But the point is, one day he was dead, and the next he's all _not dead. _Screw Lisbet Salander, I spent the rest of the day surreptitiously sourcing information on traditional and _not so _traditional channels. I found everything everyone else did, I just found it sooner.

Not that I told Thea any of that. I just told her everything I knew, in the order that I knew it - from the day he walked into my office. I'd cleared as much with Oliver first. I'd hoped that if she could experience it the way I did, maybe she'd have an easier time accepting everything, or maybe even feel compassion for her brother, compassion he deserved.

I didn't tell her how Robert Queen actually died, but I told her what I knew about the island. About Robert's unfair edict that Oliver right his wrongs. How her brother was tortured, starved and tested on the island. About Sara and Sara 2.0. About Shado and Slade. About the mad Dr. Ivo, the submarine and the miraku-gro flowing through the veins of the man she loved. I couldn't help but notice the equal relief and terror in her eyes at that part - relief it wasn't really Roy who wanted to hurt her, but also the acceptance that if he wanted to, he could kill her. Anyone. He had. I told her about The List, and Walter and how I learned Oliver was The Hood, how we lost him that night and brought him back to life. I told her that night was the start of Team Arrow, and that Roy was becoming one of us. I explained that Oliver was trying to save Roy; why it was so important to him to change after Tommy.

I told her about Malcolm and the Dark Archer, that we had stopped him from levelling the glades, that Tommy died for Laurel, that Oliver had to watch yet another loved one die. I was honest that I was the one who discovered the truth about her paternity. I told her I'd given Moira a chance to come forward but that I really had no choice but to burden Oliver with it instead. I told her I knew it wasn't my business, but that she'd be safer if he were aware of the truth.

I told her why Oliver didn't tell her once he knew - because he was barely hanging on, and the only thing he thought he could protect was her memories of the man who raised her, and not have them tarnished like they had been for him. I told her how scared he was for her, that no one's safety kept him up at night the way hers did. That he'd asked Roy to break up with her to protect her, that Roy knew he was right. That she did, too. That he'd handed over their family legacy to a vile woman because he was out of his mind with fear for Thea's life. I told her that Sara had planned to put Roy down, but Oliver had saved his life - for Thea. And for himself. I told her what he'd given up, how Laurel had turned on him - and I was secretly satisfied that she rolled her eyes - how Sara had walked away the night before.

I told her about how dangerous my life was. I told her about bomb collars, and Helena, that I was the reason Oliver left her at the courthouse before Moira's verdict. I told her about the doll maker and showed her the scar I got taking a bullet for the most badass chick I'd ever met, saving her from my first arch nemesis, The Clock King. I told her about leaving my job in IT because I believed in what we were doing, and how it was worth giving up just a fraction of what Oliver was sacrificing for everyone else. I told her no one could ever be harder on Oliver than he was on himself.

And whenI was done talking, I could see Thea - who had been miraculously quiet, absorbing everything with rapt attention - processing, categorizing, running dates and coincidences in her head. I could see she remembered Oliver saved her more than once, saved Roy, saved so many people. But she was angry. And I couldn't blame her.

I asked if she was up for talking to Oliver and she surprisingly said yes. I walked down the hall back to his room and found him sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands, his neck immediately snapping up when he heard me. Wordlessly, I held my hand out for him and he stood to take it. I nodded to Dig as we left the room.

I left them alone, closing the door behind me, joining Dig again. He poured me some fresh coffee and forced me to eat more while we ignored the loud, but mostly unclear conversation travelling down the corridor to us. We talked a little business - made sure I had what I needed to run base ops from the mansion.

Nearly twenty minutes later, the door to Thea's room opened. Dig stood up, telling me he'd be watching the other end of the hall. He had a way of knowing what people needed when they needed it. And I think that went for me, too. He knew I needed to take care of Oliver, that Oliver would put watching over Thea first, but would trust Dig to do it for him like he had the night before. We were a team.

Dig exited the room as Oliver appeared in the doorway. He silently clapped a hand over his shoulder and walked in the direction of Thea's room. When we were alone, I just waited silently. He was going to tell me what he wanted to. I mean, I could tell by his body language (and the lack of smashing things) that it went better than he thought, but he was still miles away from his sister.

I walked past him and quietly closed the door. I knew I was going to have to call Detective Hastings soon, that we still needed to strategize, but we could afford an hour for Oliver to gather his thoughts.

I walked him back to the bed and climbed in, waiting for him to follow. When he did, I gently coaxed him until his head lay in my lap. I stroked his hair until he closed his eyes. I knew from his breathing that he was awake, and he didn't shed another tear, but we sat in quiet, strangely calm.

And I waited for thunder.

**And hopefully we get back into the thick of it in the next chapter. Love to hear your feedback. Have a great wait until Wednesday, or as I call it VINDICATION DAY! Cheers.**


	7. The Fall Out

**Hey all! Sorry for the delay. Too much spinning up here (and a little focused on tomorrow!). Thanks for the reviews, faves and follows! Always love hearing feedback!**

"Oliver, I know you've had an incredibly traumatic night, and I am very sorry about your mother, but you _need_ to listen to me." It was Jean Loring, Moira's cutthroat defense attorney. She'd insisted on seeing Oliver unannounced. "You need a lawyer."

"Jean, I appreciate it," he said from his seat beside me on a couch in his father's private study. "But they don't think I killed my mother."

"I'm sure they don't, but you still need a lawyer."

"I don't understand."

"Your mother and I still enjoy attorney client privilege, as do you and I." She looked to John and me. "Anyone in this room."

I gasped and Oliver looked at me. I didn't want to say what I was thinking in case I was wrong, but I didn't have to.

"I already know," confirmed Jean. "Your mother told me last year. Are you going to try to tell me what happened isn't connected with your...night job?"

None of us said a word.

"Listen, it's unlikely they have anything about last night beyond what you supplied, which my contacts at SPD tell me isn't much, thanks to Miss Smoak. And I'm not saying you need me in the room when you talk to the police, in fact, it's better I'm not there. But I want you to be very careful about what you tell them. Just enough to satisfy the curiosity of that transplant from Central City."

Arms crossed over his chest, Dig nodded his understanding. "Selective truth."

"Exactly, Mr. Diggle. We don't want him looking an inch deeper than he needs to. Or into either of you," she said, gesturing to John and me. "No one needs to tell me anything, but I'm betting that if one of you goes down, it's a domino effect."

Oliver sighed deeply, looking to me and then to Dig. We both nodded. "Okay," he said, finally. "But Jean, there's the matter of your fee."

She held up a sealed manila envelope and slid it across the table to Oliver. "Your mother's will. We'll go over it a more appropriate time, but you needn't worry."

Finally some good news.

We spent the next few hours strategizing with our new attorney. Just as she'd advised us to do with the cops, we were selective in what we told her. She wasn't happy, but neither was Oliver, so it would have to do for now.

It was early evening before Detective Hastings arrived to take our statements. He wasn't pleased about the delay, but I may have fibbed a little and said Thea was still sedated. As Jean expected, he didn't split us up - there no reason to be suspicious of any of us. Oliver and I did most of the talking, Thea being relieved when we asked her only to answer direct questions - vaguely. It took about 45 minutes but it felt like an eon.

In a chair across from the couch seating Oliver, Thea and I, Hastings pushed the sleeves of his blazer up slightly and leaned forward. "So to summarize, Mr. Queen, you met Slade Wilson on the island when you were marooned. You were both held captive and tortured by natives. You got away and made it home. He got left behind and blames you."

"Yes," Oliver said calmly behind his CEO mask.

"Do you know when or how he got off the island?"

"No."

"Did you know he was in Starling City?"

"Yes. He made himself known under the guise of supporting my mother's campaign." He swallowed loudly.

"Did he threaten you?"

"Not explicitly. I knew he was…distressed, but I didn't know he was that unhinged."

"And Ms. Lance?"

"What about her?"

"Did she also know Wilson?"

"Sara and I didn't see each other after the shipwreck; not until she returned last year."

"And she'll verify that?"

"I'm sure she will."

"And where might I reach her?"

"I don't know. I haven't talked to her since that night."

"Do you have any reason to believe Mr. Wilson may have harmed her?"

"It's my understanding she's been in contact with her family."

She had been. I'd confirmed it with her father. And there was no way Hastings hadn't already checked with him, too.

"And Miss Smoak, to summarize your statement, Wilson called you from Mr. Queen's phone and told you where to locate him."

"Yes," I said simply.

"He wasn't at your home?"

"No."

"Your front door is off its hinges. Were you aware of that?" He'd gone to my house? Probably _in _my house. Not that I kept anything incriminating there. I was fairly certain most of my delicates were drying in the bathroom, but nothing Arrow related.

"That was me," John piped in from his position by the door, and I knew he was kicking himself for not having it fixed sooner - like eight hours wasn't fast. "I received an alert from Miss Smoak's panic alarm and went directly left from the scene of the car accident to her house."

Hastings nodded and looked back to me. "Do you have any reason to believe Mr. Wilson would harm you, Miss Smoak?"

"I have reason to believe he'd harm anyone, Detective," I said with an earnest shrug. "He's clearly mad."

"Do you live alone? With a boyfriend?"

"I'm sure you had a look around." I said evenly. "What did you detect?"

Hastings quirked a brow and the corner of his mouth followed, but before he could reply, Oliver interjected. "Detective, I'm trying to understand how Miss Smoak's relationship status is relevant to my mother's death."

"I'm simply looking out for your assistant's safety, Mr. Queen."

"I appreciate it, Detective," I said. "But I'll be staying with the Queens until the media circus dies down."

"And Mr. Diggle?"

"He does have a girlfriend, but they don't live together. He'll be staying here, too." I heard Dig smother a laugh with a cough.

"I suppose that's all I need for now," Detective Hastings said and stood. "Thank you for answering my questions. I'll be in touch with any updates."

"I'll walk you out," I said and showed him to the hall.

When we reached the front door, he stopped short of opening it. "Miss Smoak, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

"You mean a second personal question?"

Another smirk. "Executive Assistant gig for an MIT grad?"

"That's not really a question."

"It just seems to me someone with your education would have been happier in her job in IT."

"Detective, I see you've done your homework, which means you know that I'm a certified genius. I'm not really satisfied with anything that isn't taking over the world." Man that guy brought out my flippant. "So I chose trusted associate to my friend, the CEO of a Fortune 500 company with an incredible Applied Sciences Division. Plus, better parking."

He opened the door, looking back at me with an easy smile. "I'm sure I'll see you soon, Miss Smoak. Thank you for your time."

"Goodnight, Detective Hastings." I closed the door and watched through the window until he reached his car.

"Gross," came Thea's voice behind me. "He's hitting on you while investigating my mother's murder?"

"I don't think he was hitting on me, Thea. The only people who understand why I left my job in IT to take minutes at board meetings are in this house."

"Yeah, I totally figured you were sleeping together."

"We're not," I said too quickly.

"I believe you. Still. Can't be easy - everyone thinking that."

I shrugged. "You get used to it. And besides, if my reputation had to be destroyed over a man, I could do worse."

She laughed shortly. "So he could he. In fact, he has."

"Speedy," came Oliver's voice as he walked out of the study, Dig close behind. It was nice to hear him call her that. "What are we talking about?"

I was glad to see she didn't retreat when he approached. It was the thing about siblings I'd always witnessed but never experienced first-hand. The ability to be mad at someone and still need them near you.

"Nothing," she said with a smug smile. "Just Detective Hottie totally flirting with your very single 'assistant.'"

"Down, boys." I said, holding up a hand when Oliver and Dig made The Face. "Accounts are greatly exaggerated."

"I think Detective Hastings likes The Barracuda," Dig said with a half smile. "Dating cops has never complicated anything for us in the past."

Oliver, who had been silent, snapped to alertness at that. McKenna flashbacks, no doubt. "Raisa has dinner ready."

He placed his hand on the small of my back as we walked to the kitchen, Thea up ahead, whispering in Digg's ear - "Some genius" or something.

After macaroni and cheese, Thea's favourite comfort food, we called it a night. Dig went off to check in with his security team and Thea wanted to say goodnight to Raisa. I insisted on clearing the table and Oliver helped me load the dishwasher before we walked silently to his bedroom. I followed him inside, unable to stifle the yawn that escaped.

"You barely slept," he said with a slight grimace before the yawn became contagious.

I laughed softly. "Look who's talking."

"Really." His mouth turned up slightly in the corners. "You need sleep."

"I will if you will."

He nodded once and wearily agreed. "Okay."

That was easier than I thought it would be, and admittedly disappointing. I wasn't ready to go to my room yet. I wasn't sure if I didn't want to leave him alone, or if I wasn't ready to be by myself, but I knew I was already where I wanted to be. All the same, I picked up my bag from the foot of the bed and turned back for the door.

His head whipped around quickly. "Where are you going?"

"I, um, Raisa made up a room for me last night." He looked at the ground and nodded. "Unless you want me. To stay, I mean."

He wasn't looking at me, and I knew he hated being vulnerable - needing anybody. "I know it's a lot to ask, but-"

I reached out and gently gripped his forearm. "No it's not. That's easy." I gave him a small but reassuring smile and gestured to the bathroom. "I'll just get ready for bed."

I closed the door behind me, aware of two things: I was about to sleep with Oliver, again; and I didn't have anything to wear while doing it - while sleeping in his bed. Lord. I couldn't even halt the innuendos in my head.

Then I looked at the counter and found a pair of baby blue men's pajamas - Thea-sized. I wondered if there was another set in the room I'd yet to step foot in, but decided not to look a gift clotheshorse in the mouth.

I showered - alone - not that I wasn't thinking about the previous night in the shower and how much I shouldn't be thinking about it. Afterward, I dressed in the perfectly sized P.J.s. and brushed my teeth. On autopilot, I stepped out of the bathroom, glasses secured between my lips, and released my hair from the confines of the day.

As I un-weaved the heavy braid, I sighed in relief - and because it was like getting hit with a fresh wave of Oliver's shampoo. Right. Oliver. I quickly slid my glasses on and there he was - 20/20, smiling softly at me with his back against the headboard, shirtless but still wearing jeans. Lethal.

"I had a shower. I hope that's okay. I tried not to use all the hot water." I felt nervous when he stood and walked toward me. "Of course, you probably have hot water tanks the size of submarines under your tennis courts."

He gently squeezed my shoulder as he passed me on his way to the bathroom. "Just the one tennis court."

When he emerged 10 minutes later, I was sitting on the bed with my tablet in my lap, checking the newsfeeds on my tablet. I'd been doing my best not to look at anything related to Moira when Oliver was around. He knew I was doing it - it was part of my job - but we didn't need to talk about it.

He, of course, was shirtless again, this time in black sweat pants that hung just below his Adonis belt - whoever coined that term was clearly a genius and had seen Oliver Queen in nothing but these pants.

I clicked off the tablet and placed it on the bedside table, followed by my glasses. I scooted down under the covers as Oliver climbed in the bed. We lay side by side, facing the ceiling for a moment before he reached over to turn off the bedside lamp.

"Goodnight, Oliver," I whispered in the dark.

I felt him take hold of my hand under the covers before he whispered back, "Goodnight, Felicity."

When I woke up the next morning, our hands were still joined. Only, they'd come to rest on his chest - right over his heart.


	8. The Reckoning

**Hey everyone! I'm sorry this took so long! After that insane finale, I wound up writing a post about why we should be thanking the writers for that little gift and the response has been bananas, but here we are! **

It would be completely wrong for someone to actually feel happy in a situation created by horrendous circumstance - especially when the other half of the situation is, like, grieving his mother's death and dealing with a break up with _one _of the loves of his life, right?

I knew it.

And yet, it was so true. I woke up in Oliver's bed two mornings after Moira's funeral, once again closer to him than when I'd fallen asleep, this time tucked against his side, his chest to my back. Describing the feeling that came over me would be like trying to explain the Theory of Everything to a group of preschoolers - in Klingon. Not possible. I felt a slow smile spread across my lips, and it reminded me of the day I left Greta behind. And then I felt guilty.

As Oliver's slow even breaths confirmed he was still sleeping, I thought about how I was lying to him. I knew him about as well as anyone could, but the truth was, Oliver didn't know me. He knew my heart, but he didn't know my scars. At least not the internal ones.

Part of that was selfish. I was always encouraging Oliver to open up about his past, which was more traumatic than mine, but the one time I did reveal a little bit about my own - just that little glimpse into my broken home - I saw that face. The one people make when they hurt for you. It was ironic that I'd just reinforced how much he could trust me, but I didn't trust him with my past. Greta Yves was so far behind me, but so close, too.

If Thea's paternity had taught me anything, it was that secrets are poison, no matter what reason they're kept. Telling Oliver and Dig the truth, and they both deserved it for all they'd done for me, would change everything. If they weren't mad at me, and even if they were, they'd never treat me the same. They'd forget I was a perfectly healthy woman and start treating me like that sick little girl. Which would have been great when I actually needed it, but it was too late for it now.

Still, I was going to tell him. Maybe not all of it, not right away, but enough. And not the night of the rally, because he was dealing with pretty huge news - again. It had kept for nearly a year, it would keep a while longer. I was very Scarlett O'Hara about it: I won't think about that today, I'll think about it tomorrow…and all that.

But the next thing I knew, Oliver's dating his not-actually-ex-girlfriend, Sara, sister to his actual ex-girlfriend, Laurel. Sara the Super Assassin Babe who it's impossible to hate. But for Oliver, a personal time bomb.

I knew Oliver enough to know that even when he wasn't thinking, his subconscious was in overdrive. When Oliver made a toxic choice (no offence to Sara), it was usually triggered by something emotional - guilt, despair...pain. And maybe it's egotistical, but my mind sees patterns. It just does - it comes with the grey matter. So I know at least two of Oliver's more toxic choices since The Island: Season 2, happened after he and I shared what you might call "a moment." Of significance.

Emotional intimacy. One of us would the let the other in, just a little, and then I'd feel him distancing himself from me. After he killed The Count to save my life, breaking a vow to honour his best friend, I knew he didn't regret it, because I was important to him. It was The Count or me. But days later he goes and sleeps with our corporate Arch Nemesis, a woman who treated me with absolute disdain. And when I asked him why, he fed me a story about his lifestyle ruling out a romantic life. And granted, I'm emotionally stunted about these things, but I really thought he meant: _Fine Print - That includes you_.

A theory only reinforced when he went all hypocrite caveman over Barry a week later. The guy can get shot in the arm and not notice it, but cue Barry Allen and he's suddenly a roaring baby about my first aid, and running background checks on my date. And when I had no choice but to reveal Oliver's identity so Barry could save his life, he was _furious_ with me. And I couldn't help but wonder why he wasn't yelling at Dig, too. Not that I wanted that. It wasn't his fault either, but _I_ didn't shoot Barry in the neck with a tranq dart and transport him to the lair.

And just as I thought we were getting past it, Oliver becomes a total jabberwocky because I'm spending time with a guy _in a coma_. Like he wouldn't drop everything and everyone to do the same if it were Laurel or Sara - or some girl he'd just met.

When that led to the Define The Partnership Talk (a very important milestone in any vigilante/sidekick relationship), I thought we were back to our normal, abnormal dynamic. A theory immediately tested when I learned about Thea and Malcolm. I agonized over telling him, worried Moira was right, that he'd hate me for telling him. And she was wrong, but not completely.

He didn't hate me. And when he said I wasn't going to lose him, I know he meant it, but I don't think his subconscious did, because the next thing I knew, I was deleting footage from the lair that TMZ would have paid me a easy million for; and Oliver, "I can't be with someone I could really care about" Queen was calling Sara Lance his girlfriend. I guess it didn't apply to people he already cared about.

Me and him? We barely spoke if it wasn't about a mission. It's normal to get wrapped up in a new relationship and let friendships slide, but even when we were in the same room, even after a particularly trying day, he didn't turn to me anymore. He didn't need me. He had Sara. He was still there, but he was gone. For a Queen, he was the king of mixed messages.

And I was happy for them. They deserved to be happy together if that's what they wanted. They'd been through so much that only the other could really understand. And I got used to it, like the scar on my shoulder from the bullet meant for Sara. I even managed to be supportive.

That's why it was such a shock when Sara broke up with Oliver, unceremoniously, with an audience of me. When she'd unknowingly delivered both halves of the post-Isabel talk we had after Russia, I couldn't help but wonder if he noticed it, too. That was probably the first time I was truly jealous - and not of them, but of _her_. Sara was just giving up something I had wanted so badly. I didn't realize how much so until that moment.

And then Slade called. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Oliver and I never discussed Sara. I didn't know if we were avoiding it, or if it just seemed unimportant under the circumstances. I had my feelings about it, but I didn't share them. I didn't need to point out the fact she wasn't there - he knew. And part of me was selfishly glad. Just like I was selfishly happy in that moment in Oliver's bed, held protectively by the man I'd been falling in love with since I was a barely at teenager. It wasn't right.

Oliver had told me he trusted me more than anyone, and I wasn't sure if he'd feel the same after I told him the truth, but I knew what would happen if I didn't.

I felt his arm tighten around me, pulling me closer to him. He inhaled deeply and hummed quietly as he roused. And I felt the moment he became aware of how close we were. I waited for the apology I knew was coming. But it didn't.

"Good morning," he said and I twisted until I was facing him, his arm still around me. "You've been up for awhile."

"Not too long," I said, taking in his sleepy features, the hazy smile I was getting used to waking up to.

"You look like you've been thinking. What about?"

"Just anxious to get that cure."

"Yeah."

"Come on," I said, pulling gently at his arm before I sat up. "Let's get breakfast."

That night, John and Oliver went to meet up with one of Oliver's Bratva contacts to obtain more Tibetan Pit Viper venom. We'd moved Roy to the mansion to keep him secure and give Thea something to focus on, but we were running low on the thing that was keeping him from killing…all of us until we found a cure. We'd been left under the protection of a team of mercenaries Dig had arranged with Lyla's help.

Thea and I were in her walk-in closet, organizing. At least she was. I mostly just admired and chattered away with her about nothing in particular, trying to keep her occupied.

"Works out we're the same size since you can't go to your apartment," Thea said as she rummaged through hangers. I hummed my agreement.

My eyes were stuck on a shimmering silver dress next to many gorgeous designer gowns. I stood up and walked over to it, running my hand over the smooth silk.

"I bet it would look great on you," Thea said.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, dropping the fabric as quickly as I'd picked it up. "I shouldn't be grabbing stuff. It's just really beautiful."

"What's mine is yours. And thanks. Prom dress."

"Pictures?"

"Somewhere," she said. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

I smiled sadly. "Sorry, no pics."

"Wardrobe malfunction? Unfortunate hair?"

"Didn't go."

"What?" Her head whipped around to me. "You didn't go to your own prom."

"Nope," I said with a shrug, hoping she'd drop it. But I should have known better.

"How come? It's _prom_."

"Sick," I said simply.

"Oh. That sucks," she said, probably assuming it was the stomach flu. "So, you said I'd get answers to all my questions."

"And I delivered."

"On all except one."

"Mousy brown," I said, even though I could tell by the glint in her eye that she wasn't talking about my natural hair colour.

"You said you and Oliver aren't sleeping together."

"Still true - despite what it looks like with the whole me sleeping in his bed thing."

"And I believe you. But…why?"

"Why what?"

"Why aren't you sleeping with my brother?"

I just sat there, doing a great impression of a baby bird, opening and closing my mouth. I'd been down this road before, but this was direct. "We're friends. Friends generally don't sleep together."

"Some friends do."

"And they rarely remain friends."

"Is that why? You think you'd ruin the friendship."

"It's honestly not a discussion we've ever had, Thea. And either way, your brother has traded in his preference of super models for women trained in physical combat and weaponry."

"Oliver has a thing for women, period. Is it the danger thing?"

"Nope. It's not any one thing, Thea. We're friends. Partners."

"Isn't that what Dr. Phil says is the foundation of any good relationship?" I raised an incredulous eyebrow at her. "And don't, like, most relationships start at work?"

"Both of those things may be true, but that doesn't mean they apply to me and your brother."

"But you want them to." Not a question, just a statement.

"What I want is to get out of this conversation as quickly as possible."

"I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, and I know it's only half my business, because Oliver's my brother. Or is it a 1/4 my business because he's my half-brother."

"I don't think that's how it works. And I know you're kidding, but Oliver would be really hurt if he heard you say that. He doesn't think of you like that."

"This is what I mean!" she said, hands on hips. "You care about him. You're here. Because he wants you here."

"He wants me here right now because it's safer and he doesn't want to be alone. And I'm here because I don't want him to be. He's my best friend. And if I needed the same, he'd do it for me."

"How does that negate anything I just said?"

"I just mean that not everything means something." This was a lesson I'd learned twenty times over since meeting Oliver.

"I'm just saying that you're in this house because it's safer, and because he needs you, but that's not why you're sharing a bed. Or Diggle would be camped out between you."

"The night is young for us vigilante types, Thea. You never know what could happen."

I'd never been so happy to hear my phone ring. I was even more relieved when I saw Cisco's picture on the screen.

"Cisco," I answered. "Tell me you have good news for me."

"I do, I do, I do," he said in that permanently cheery voice I'd come to appreciate. "One super-soldier cure procured."

"Oh, thank God!" I said and Thea's eyes were wide with hope, all else forgotten. "Are you at S.T.A.R. Labs?"

"I am."

"I'll see you in half an hour." I hung up the phone and went to sprint out of Thea's room.

"Where do you think you're going?" she called me behind me.

I turned. Crap. I didn't want to get her hopes up. "It's Barry. They think he's waking up." Lie. But maybe it was a kind one.

"Lightening Bolt Boy? Well, that's great, but you heard Oliver. No leaving the house without him or Dig."

"I did hear that, but in fairness, that was more directed to you than me," I rationalized. "Don't worry, though. I'm going to tell them _and_ I'm going to take a couple of mercs with me."

"Mercs?" she laughed.

"Why be a crime-fighter if you can't use the lingo?" I quipped. "Thea, if I don't go now, who knows what will happen? It's a risk, I know, but that's my job."

She eyed me warily, but relented. "Alright. But, Felicity…be careful. We need you here."

"I will." When she threw her arms around me, I was surprised but returned the embrace. "I promise."

Lucky for me, Dig hadn't explicitly told his team that I wasn't allowed to leave, so I was in a four car procession of bullet proof SUVs on my way to S.T.A.R. Labs in no time. And…when I got there, I texted Dig to say where I was. And then I chose to ignore the angry text I got instantly from him, followed by one from Oliver. Instead, I made my way through security with Ryan, Dig's favourite, right beside me.

"I'm going to get chewed out by Sarge, aren't I?" he asked me.

"If you do, I'll fix your parking tickets for life."

"You can head into that boardroom," said a middle-aged receptionist after we'd signed in. "I'm afraid your friend won't be able to go in."

"He's my body guard," I said awkwardly. I felt so stupid saying that.

"And he can wait outside the door, but I have explicit instructions that you must go in alone."

It seemed like a lot of protocol for a secret mission, but I didn't have time to question, so I just nodded. Ryan stood outside the door as asked and I walked in the boardroom. I was expecting to see Cisco, but I saw Amanda Waller instead.

"Miss Smoak," she said with a Cheshire Cat smile that made me instantly uneasy. "You know who I am?"

"Amanda Waller," I said. "A.R.G.U.S."

"Correct, please have a seat."

"I was surprised you didn't bring Oliver Queen or John Diggle with you."

"They're otherwise engaged."

"Meeting with Bratva to procure snake venom. I know."

That didn't surprise me. "You really do know everything, don't you?" She raised a brow. "Sorry, I meant that in the best way possible."

She looked at me but said nothing and I grew increasingly uncomfortable. "Ms. Waller. Where's Cisco?"

"I asked your friend to let me give you this." She handed me two vials of blue liquid. It looked like something they'd use to demonstrate the absorption power of a maxi pad.

"The cure."

"Yes."

"How do you know it works?"

"I don't."

I hung my head. "You know about Roy."

"You said yourself, I know everything."

"You need it tested." She nodded. "I don't mean to be rude, but isn't this a conversation you should be having with Dig or Oliver?"

"Typically, yes, but I wanted to take advantage of this time to speak alone."

"Are you offering me a job, because, I mean, I need one, and A.R.G.U.S. is - wow - but now's not really a good time." I babbled.

"I've no doubt we could use the skills of someone such as yourself, Miss Smoak. Not many people can hack our systems."

My head was spinning. A.R.G.U.S. had hijacked the cure, Roy was a guinea pig, she knew I'd hacked them, she didn't want Oliver and Dig there.

"Some of your other work is even more impressive," she said. "Greta."

My body went rigid and she knew she was in. She slid my permanent high school file across the table, inside of which was Greta Yves with a that long brown wig that Stephen had put on me all those years ago. Pale and tired, but smiling. I had to remind myself to breath. I hadn't seen that me in so long.

"You did an excellent job covering your tracks. Truly. I probably never would have made the connection myself." I decided to channel my inner Jean and not tell her anything she didn't know, or at least try not to confirm or deny it. "And I mean it when I say I have tremendous respect for you. It couldn't have been easy."

I worked to keep a calm facade, but my voice trembled when I asked, "I'm guessing changing my identity isn't a more serious crime than the alleged hacking of your systems."

She smiled. "Don't worry, you're not in trouble."

"Then what is this?"

"I'm just curious if your mother was the only reason you changed your name. Your father had nothing to do with it?"

"I barely knew my father." She sat quietly until I spoke again. "I've looked. I mean, not in awhile, but I've looked. There's nothing online about him after he left us."

"You're right."

"I know." I grimaced and bowed my head.

"But that doesn't mean there's nothing offline." My head snapped up at that. "Your father was a doctor, correct? A researcher?"

"Yes."

"And he just disappeared one day."

"Ms. Waller, I know you're incredibly busy, and I don't like being toyed with. Could we please just cut to the chase?"

"I've seen your medical records," she continued. "You're considered a phenomenon. Some would say it was…miraculous. You weren't healed by your prescribed treatment, you just suddenly ceased to be sick."

"Again, not new information for me," I said, growing impatient. "Are we going somewhere with this?"

" Did you know Anthony Ivo was searching for a cure for cancer?"

"And building Super Soldiers. Diversity is important. It's unfortunate he only succeeded on the one count."

"When we began digging deeper into Ivo's work, we couldn't find any record of him. That wasn't unexpected; criminals rarely use their own names. So we started looking for research fellows conducting similar trials that ended around the time Anthony Ivo appeared. There were quite a number. More than you'd probably think. But one name in particular stood out."

I could feel the bile rising in my throat.

"I've always loved history, particularly languages and how they evolve over time, from place to place. Taking pieces of words and molding them into knew ones. But you still have the origin - the root of the word."

"Yves," I said softly. "French, but German origins."

She merely nodded.

"Are you telling me…" My lips quivered, my jaw shook, but I gritted my teeth and got through it. "The mirakuru was for me?"

"Yes."

All those people… All of this… Oliver, Sara, and Roy. Moira. Slade. This was all happening because of me. But that's not what Waller's point was. I felt panic rising but tried to keep control. "So if that's _not_ the cure…"

"Then it's likely you are."

I walked out of S.T.A.R. Labs twenty minutes later with Ryan close behind, and two vials of the cure in my pocket. We drove in silence on the way back to the mansion. When we pulled up out front, my door flew up open and I was yanked out of the car, immediately engulfed by Oliver.

"What were you thinking?" he said into my hair, gripping me like a vice. My response was muffled by his shirt. He pulled back to look at me. "You weren't supposed to leave."

"I know," I said plainly.

'What's wrong? Did Cisco have the cure?"

I nodded, but my enthusiasm was notably lacking. "Where's Dig?"

"He's with Lyla. She's looking into Slade's hide out."

"Alright. Listen, Thea thinks I went to see Barry. I didn't want to get her hopes up. And that might have been the right call."

"Right," he said. We always knew Roy was going to be the guinea pig. "We've got an armed escort taking her to the Verdant for an inspection in the morning. We'll do it then."

"We'll do it then," I repeated and reached for the front door. I walked inside and Thea was at the bottom of the stairs.

"Well," she asked anxiously, hopeful for me. "Is Barry awake?"

"No," I said sadly. "False alarm."

"I'm sorry." She put her arms around me.

"Thanks, Thea. I'm just really tired. I'm going to get ready for bed."

Oliver had been watching me carefully but finally spoke. "I have to make a few calls," he said. "I'll meet you upstairs in a bit."

I never thought I'd dread those words.

**That's it for today. Hopefully more after the long weekend. Please let me know what you think. And thanks, as always, for leaving your feedback and following. I'm loving getting to know all of you!**


	9. The Reveal

**Hey everyone! I'm really sorry it took so long to get this update up. Part having completely underestimated what's on my plate, half unsure where I wanted to go. To anyone I haven't replied to yet, my apologies. You'll be hearing from me soon! And thanks for following, favoriting and reviewing!**

I had tried to sleep. I did. I got under the covers, wearing Oliver's tee shirt and my underwear, which probably didn't help my cause. My brain was on overload; all at once processing the reality of who my father (my dead father) was, what I was by extension. Maybe Thea and I could bond over finding out our dad's were villains who hurt the people we loved. And of course, I couldn't help notice karma had impeccable timing, apparently not impressed with that morning's fleeting feelings of contentment in Oliver's bed.

Ignorance really was bliss.

After a couple of hours, I turned on the bedside light and started doing laps around the room, thankful the lush carpeting absorbed my footfalls. Then I heard a knock at the door and stopped short.

Of course.

I was considering ignoring it, delaying the inevitable, when he called through the door. "Felicity. I hear you pacing. Can I come in, please?"

I shut my eyes tightly for a moment before crossing the room to the door. I opened it to find a weary, wary and shirtless Oliver. For once, I managed to keep my mouth shut but it was more out of cowardice than fear of innuendo.

"We should talk," he said and cleared his throat. I noticed he held the photo in his hands and I idly wondered if he'd been holding it since I left his room.

"I'm so sorry," I said and wrapped my arms around myself, eyes focused on the floor.

He came to stand in front of me. "Why on Earth are apologizing to me?"

"Because this is all my fault," I said, choking on the emotion I'd been trying to stuff down. "My da- My father…"

He gripped my arms gently until I raised my head to look at him. "Felicity, you've always told me I'm not responsible for my father's actions."

"Because you're not." I shook my head. "And it's not the same."

Incredulously, he asked, "How?"

"You were shipwrecked and your dad passed on a mantle of guilt to you. My father _killed_ and tortured I don't even know how many people, including you." As I began to feel the weight of it, I sunk to my knees and Oliver was kneeling next to me instantly. "I shouldn't be here."

"Of course, you should be here." He kept trying to angle his head to meet my eyes but I wouldn't let him. "I'm glad you're here."

Would it surprise you if I said those words actually hurt me as much as they would have had he said the opposite? It surprised me. I knew that as quickly as he'd said it, he could take it back. He would once he had the full picture. So to speak.

"I don't mean in the mansion. I mean here at all." I sighed and stood up. Oliver moved to follow me but I held a hand up to stop him. After a long moment, he finally settled on the floor with his legs crossed, looking at me expectantly. And I looked anywhere but him.

"He left when I was eight. Just vanished. And when I got older, my mother told me it was because of me, but she made it sound like- This doesn't make sense. But it's true." I was on autopilot, conflicted by the enormity of everything - apparently finding out your dad is evil comes in waves. "It's like a cosmic joke, because it's all I've been thinking about lately. It's like the Final Destination of secrets."

"Felicity," he said gently to halt my spiraling stream of consciousness that didn't make a lick of sense. "Maybe you could tell me what happened at S.T.A.R. Labs. Let's just work up to it. Whatever it is."

That seemed doable. "I was supposed to be meet Cisco, but Amanda Waller was waiting for me."

"For us," he corrected me, and I could see it was wishful thinking.

I shook my head once. "For me. She knew I was alone. And she knew things. About me."

"Okay." The corner of his mouth turned up slightly. "Well, I looked into you, too, but I didn't find anything scary."

I snorted involuntarily, and then covered my mouth. "I'm sorry. I mean. It's just if you think your background search capabilities and Amanda Waller's have _anything_ in common… Or mine, for that matter, but that's the point. You were both looking into the wrong person. At least at first."

He stared at me blankly. "You have lost me."

Tell me something I didn't know.

I took in as much air as my lungs would allow and spit it out quickly. "Felicity Smoak isn't my real name, just like blonde isn't my real hair colour. I changed my identity when I was twenty two and came here from Nevada."

"Nevada." He said it like I'd told him I'd come from the North Pole.

"I was born here, but I lived there for awhile."

"Why change your name? You were in trouble?"

"Sort of." God, I hated it. I knew that he saw me as somewhat…virginal? Unsullied by darkness. And I liked that. It almost made me believe it. "I was going to be in a lot more trouble. I left to get away from her, from my mother, but I'll have to tell you that gem another time. It's not what's important here."

His expression said he begged to differ, but he stayed silent and I rejoined him on the floor before I continued. "I didn't think I would ever have to tell anyone this. I didn't want to. And honestly, I'm not even really sure I do now. No offence."

He nodded deeply once. "I think I understand that."

Just dive in. "When I was six I was diagnosed with Leukemia." I saw his hand inch forward slightly, but he stopped abruptly and secured it against his knee. I continued.

"And it was, obviously, really bad. A lot of ups and downs and it was hard on my parents. When my dad left, at first my mom told me he was working - for _years_, she said he was working. But when I got older, and she started slinging drinks at a Casino, she told me that he left her because of me. That his career was more important than both of us."

I had to stop for a moment. I kept my eyes focused on the wall behind and to the right of Oliver and tried control my jaw as it started to tremble. Oliver just waited me out patiently.

"One day, I'm being told I am most certainly dying - and I was ready for it." I could feel him wince. "But then I just…got better. Out of nowhere. Medical journal, fill your room full of eager interns stuff. No trace that I'd ever been sick at all. And I've never been sick since. I don't even get the flu."

My eyes had clouded over and Oliver reached to a table for a box of tissues and handed them to me. He took the moment to ask, "How old were you?"

"Turning twenty." I wasn't sure if he'd gotten there yet, so I figured I'd shove us over the cliff. "You would have been on Lian Yu for over a year."

He shook his head. You'd think I'd said I was having Dig's love child. "Felicity, that's got to be a coincidence."

"Yeah, well, I thought it was a coincidence that Tony Yves sounded so much like Anthony Ivo, but it turns out that's as big a coincidence as him looking for a miracle cure. Didn't you even say that's what Mirakuru means?"

"Yes."

"Yes. So whatever obligations you think you have to me - as a partner, or a friend - obviously doesn't apply now."

He looked offended. "You're not here out of obligation, Felicity. You're here because…you're here. You're supposed to be here. In this house. Alive."

"No, _I _am supposed to be dead. You've spent so long blaming yourself for all of this, and not only was that unjustified, but it's _my_ fault. Everything that's happened up until now, everything that happens after today…it's because my dad was selfish. And evil. He's clearly evil. And my mother's at least half-evil, so I'm statistically likely to turn out just like them."

"Felicity." He cupped my cheek. "You were a little girl. None of this is your fault. And you couldn't be evil if you tried."

"Sure, I could," I said and dabbed at my nose. "I'm a genius. That's like, fifty percent of the written test."

"I'm no scientist, but I'm sure it would defy the laws of nature."

"Physicist. And I could be an axe murderer. I'm probably just waiting for my breaking point. We know better than anyone that there's an inciting event, and the next thing you know, you're cringing over the name the press gives you and kicking yourself for not getting a good one out there first. Like The Batman. Probably an ad exec. The Penguin? That guy did not get in front of it. And I'm not saying you're evil, you're obviously not - but look at Helena. I bet she was perfectly delightful before she flipped the psychotic switch. I could be wearing leather and tying up IT girls next week. Not like- Good lord."

Oliver had listened to me attentively and patiently the whole time, but as I started to go off the rails, my defense mechanisms on overload, he finally barked out a short laugh, covering his mouth immediately.

"_This_ could be my breaking point." I buried my head in my hands, only for Oliver's laughter to fill the room. I'm not sure there's a sweeter sound. Except maybe when he said my name. But this was rare. It was… How do you describe _everything_? It was contagious, too. Soon, we were both wiping at our eyes, and I felt so lucky. And then guilty.

Oliver had doubtfully laughed like this since before the island. He looked so much younger. And in that moment, I was so painfully aware of the fact that, while I was the reason he was so happy in this moment, I was also the reason he'd suffered for so long. Nearly every scar on his body, and on his soul, could be traced back to me. And while they'd never bothered me before, I was afraid I'd now look at them and feel shame. I was the reason he couldn't be with Sara, or that she couldn't be with him, because she was as innocent in all of this as he had been.

It took a moment before I realized I wasn't crying tears of laughter anymore, I was just crying. Just like that, Oliver stopped, his brow furrowed as he took hold of my arms. "Hey," he said softly, squeezing gently. "What just happened?"

I couldn't look at him as I spoke. "I may not be the reason you wound up on the island, but everything that happened to you there was because of me. Your mother is dead because of _me_, Oliver. How can you not hate me?"

He angled my face until our eyes met. He swallowed thickly. "Felicity, I killed Ivo, but it hasn't even crossed your mind. Just like it hadn't crossed mine that what happened to my mother was your fault. And I could _never _hate you. If anything, I'm grateful."

"Your scars…" I closed my mouth and shook my head.

He picked up my hand and pressed my palm briefly to his tricep before holding it just under his collarbone - the bullet that grazed him when saved me from The Count and the one that landed him in the back of my car. "One brought you to me, the other kept you with me. As far as I'm concerned, so did the rest."

I could feel his heart beat wildly under my hand at a pace rivaling my own. My eyes snapped to his and I'd seen the look there before. That night in the shower, right before he…kissed me. And, in that moment, I wanted him to kiss me again. So I have no idea why my stupid brain broke the spell by blurting, "That's not everything."

He blinked. "Okay," he said cautiously.

"I'm actually glad you haven't already put it together because now I don't feel so bad about the fact that Waller basically had to draw me a diagram before I-"

"Felicity."

"Sorry. It's just. You're really not going to like this part. This might be the worst part. Or maybe the best part. I really haven't had a chance to think about it." He put his hands on my arms again so I'd cut to the chase. "The cure."

"What about it?"

"What Waller gave me might work."

"Did she tell you what we do if it doesn't?"

"Well, they're already working on Cure 2.0 as a fail safe. With an updated sample."

His jaw set. He'd gotten there. "Of Mirakuru," he said firmly.

"My blood," I said and turned out my elbow so he could see the puncture mark from where a tech had drawn earlier. Waller's super intimidating…everything is the only thing that kept me from passing out from the needle. I'd had more than my fair share. "If it doesn't work, I'm the best chance. The cure is actually in my bloodstream. Which I'm sure is ironic in ways I haven't even processed yet."

He was quiet and not in a good way, so I pressed on. "Oliver, I know this is…unexpected, but it's got to be good news overall. Maybe it starts and ends with me. Roy, Slade and whoever else was injected."

We'd seen Isabel, bitchy and undead, at Moira's funeral. Dig was positive he'd delivered three hits to her chest, killing her instantly, but she was there to taunt us. She kept staring at me, too. I couldn't figure out if it was smugness or just general loathing on her face, but it gave me the heebies. It was far more unsettling than before she was mirakuru'd and possibly became Den Mother to the rest of the prisoners Roy had been hooked up to. Who could be anywhere.

Oliver pinched the bridge of his nose and growled, "_God dammit_."

"This is a good thing. Or at least, a silver lining?" I said, trying to lift the mood. "Maybe I can fix it."

He raised his head to look at me, his eyes softening with a slight shake of his head. "Felicity, if you're the solution to Waller, you're a threat to Slade."

"_Oh_. Right. So…on the phone that night, I mean, I thought he just had the wrong idea about you and me, but what if he… Oh, god. You don't think he already knows, do you?"

Oliver didn't say anything, but I could see the almost imperceptible movement of his eyes while he mentally processed what we knew against what he knew about Slade.

"I mean, if he knew, I'd already be dead. Right?" I insisted. "If I'm a threat to him, then what possible reason could he have for letting me live?"

He wrapped his arms tightly around me, his chin resting atop my head. We stayed like that for a long moment and the tension slowly began to ease - as much as it can when the world is collapsing around you. Eventually, our breathing synched, like the night Moira died. And then I yawned into his shoulder.

"We should sleep," he said and I pulled back to let go of him. He caught my hand before it dropped completely and I met his eyes. "I understand if you want to stay here, but I'd feel better if-"

"Say no more." Relieved, I stood and reached for my tablet, stuffing it and the few things I'd unpacked back into my bag along with the picture of my family.

Oliver took the bag from me and kept hold of my hand as we walked back to his bedroom. We didn't say anything as we climbed into bed and he turned out the light, or when he moved closer and slid his arm under my neck until my head rested in the crook of his shoulder.

Before I could say goodnight, he whispered. "Can I ask you what your old name was?"

"Greta," I said softly. "But please don't ever call me that."

"I won't."

"I chose Felicity because it means-"

"Joy," he finished for me, and I had a full on body buzz. "Felicity means joy."

"Most people don't know that."

"I didn't either," he said, his arm tightening around me slightly. "I looked it up."


End file.
